


Friends

by zankiefanatic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bipolar Ian, Body Image, Childhood Friends, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Fluff and Angst, Homophobic Language, I'm not sure yet, Internalized Homophobia, Little Ian, Little Mickey, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicide Attempt, there is always smut, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:45:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 208,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zankiefanatic/pseuds/zankiefanatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian is five when Mickey moves in across the street ad his whole entire world changes in the blink of an eye. Sometimes you don't know how badly you need someone until they enter your life, and you can't think of going a day without them. Best friend AU(??? not sure yet) where Mickey is an angry dirty boy with a soft spot for a curly ginger freckle. They grow up as boyfriends, as lovers, as confidants, but most importantly as friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving In

**Author's Note:**

> rating is subject to change. In fact rating will definitely change. hope you like it! xoxo

Ian was five when they first met. The new family was moving in across the street and he’d nearly lost his mind when he saw kids his size slugging bags on their too small shoulders into the house. It was summer and Monica and Frank had taken off again leaving Fiona in charge. That usually was better than the alternative but it also meant that Lip no longer wanted to play with his little brother. He only wanted to help Fiona with things, running to the store for anything she needed and trying to help with dinner, and taking care of Carl and Debbie. He never let Ian help claiming it was only a job for a “big kid” and the two year age difference must’ve been pretty critical. So seeing kids his age who might not have a “big kid” size stuck up their ass made him ecstatic.

He tied on his shoes, a Gallagher trait that had to be learned early on with all the hand me down sneakers and headed across the street. There were three older boys even older than Lip and one of them maybe older than Fiona dragging boxes into the house where a little boy closer to Ian’s age was throwing a fit in the middle of the doorway.

“Why can’t I help bring in boxes?!”

One of the older boys merely nudged him out of the way with his foot so they could get through, passing him with a condescending snort.

“Because you couldn’t carry a fuckin’ feather without dropping it, and Dad would beat your ass. Go bake with Mom and Mandy or something.”

“Fuck you!” The little boy roared angrily turning and stomping down the sidewalk.

He had dark brown hair and bright blue eyes and a scowl etched deeply into the planes of his face. But Ian noticed as soon as he was away from the older boys, his brothers, it dropped immediately as if it’d been a mask the whole time. Underneath was something softer.

Ian followed after him. He found the boys anger unique and a little funny for some odd reason. Not to mention he just had nothing better to do, no one else wanted him around.

“Hi.”

The boy turned to let him taking in the noticeably squeaking high voice and the mask was back on.

“What do you want?”

Ian shrugged walking happily beside him. “I’m Ian Gallagher. You just moved in across from me.”

“Yea, so?”

“So wanna be friends?”

Mickey peered at him for a second before laughing in his face.

“Fuck off pip-squeak you’re just a little kid.”

“So are you! I heard your brothers say you couldn’t bring in boxes cause of it.”               

Mickey turned on him then fixing Ian with an unimpressive glare and effectively stopping their walk.

“Call me a little kid again and I’ll beat you with a stick.”

He turned and kept walking as if that should’ve been the end of their meeting, of their existence in each other’s lives. But something Mickey would go on to learn about Ian Gallagher was that he didn’t really take no for an answer.

“Want me to show you where the park is? There’s a woods behind it it’s awesome.”

Mickey turned to stare at Ian like he was crazy but Ian was just smiling with his stupid freckles and orange curly hair.

“Ugh fine. Lead the way.” He sighed.

They spend the entire day at the park. Mickey found a huge stick that they took turns trying to lift. Then Ian found some worm in the dirt and Mickey dared him to pick it up, an when he did they started daring each other to do other stupid things. It was the funnest day of Ian’s whole life. Mickey was fun and tough and he only cussed when he was trying to be scary which seemed to be connected with his brothers so after a while he stopped cussing at Ian and relaxed. They just had fun. They ran around chasing each other and screaming at the top of their lungs. Everything was perfect.

And when the stun started to set they headed back home slowly together smelling of sweat and outdoors and boy with the earth caked under their fingernails from the woods.

“Wanna go back tomorrow?” Ian asked before Mickey could leave.

Mickey smiled. “Sure. When?”

“Early. We can spend the whole day there. Meet me outside after breakfast.”

“Yea okay see ya.”

Ian waved happily and disappeared back inside to tell Fiona all about his new friend.

Mickey and Ian spent the whole summer together. Usually it was in the woods behind the park building things out of decaying pieces of woods and making up games together. Sometimes when it was just too hot they’d go to Ian’s house and play in his room. They ate popsicles and built forts with blankets and chairs. Mickey would tell him scary stories and jump out of nowhere to scar him causing Ian to punch him which would inevitably lead to wrestling and tearing down their fort until they collapses crying with laughter. Soon enough Mickey became comfortable there until he was just kind of another presence in the Gallagher home.

Mickey never said it but Ian could tell he didn’t like his house too much. His brothers were mean and his mom spent all of her time with his little sister. He didn’t talk about his dad much, but sometimes when Ian went over to Mickey’s to ask him to play he would hear yelling and Mickey would come running out of the house. When he asked him about it Mickey just told him to drop it. They always met at Ian’s after that.

When school started Ian was terrified he wouldn’t get to see Mickey anymore. Mickey was two years older than him putting him in Lip’s grade. Then he went outside to the bus stop that first day and Mickey was leaning against the pole of the stop sign angrily yawning like the big grump he was in the morning. And Ian realized he’d at least get to sit with Mickey on the bus and it made him so happy. He finally had a friend to talk to even if it was only while they were waiting for the bus.

“Cheer up Mick school’ll be fun!” He smiled enthusiastically.

Mickey just snorted and shoved at Ian playfully causing both of them to laugh.

In the end Mickey’s way of looking at things wasn’t that far off base. First grade sucked. The other boys made fun of Ian for his freckles and his hair. He was pale and smiley and pure, traits that didn’t mess well in the Southside of Chicago where the dirtier you were the better. He didn’t look like Lip or Fiona something that even at five he was able to understand and worry about. Without his friend there it wasn’t worth because there was no one to take his mind off the bullies.

But every day at recess the first grades got to play recess with the rest of the kids and instead of following Lip around like he had the year before he had someone that actually wanted him around. Mickey.

One day when he was on his way to find Mickey in the sea of kids one of the kids from his class felt the need to embarrass him in front of his only friend. They called him things like carrot top and Chuckie from rugrats and talked about his family. Usually he found it interesting because they were all poor hence living on the Southside to begin with and the nicknames weren’t very cruel or creative, but he didn’t want Mickey to think he was a wimp or decide that he was still a little kid and not want to play with him anymore. So he hit the bully in the face and screamed at the top of his lungs not to fuck with Ian Gallagher(the language of the streets was already beginning to rub off on him). But the kid was bigger than him and he quickly got back up knocking his fist into Ian’s until he felt back with a whiny grunt.

Then it was a punch to his eyes and his cheek, the sharp pain of bone on bone scraping through his insides. It surprised Ian how badly it hurt. He’d seen Lip fight with neighborhood kids before, and even Fiona with some of the girls but they never seemed to hurt until afterwards with the adrenaline had faded from their veins. This was different. This sucked. He was about to put his hands up in a desperate attempt to cover his face when the pressure of his bully was gone and new pain filled cries were hitting the air. He opened his eyes to see that his bully was on the ground being pummeled in the face by none other than Mickey Milkovich.

All the kids stared on in horror as Mickey’s knuckles turned red, but Ian was smiling. It was kind of sadistic, sure, but for Ian it was the first time someone stuck up for him. It was the first time someone saw the burden on his shoulders and thought it was too much, thought he deserved some help for a change.

“Fuck with Gallagher again and I’ll kick your fucking dick in you hear me?!”

The bully started crying and ran off to tell a teacher leaving Mickey to turn back and help Ian off the ground as all the kids stared.

“You okay?” Mickey asked.

Ian found himself smiling through the blood and he wrapped his arm around Mickey’s shoulders as they were towed inside to the principal’s office. Mickey shrugged his arm off shoving Ian away which caused them both to chuckle. That day he sat in a chair with tissue shoved up his nose and his mom trying to get him out of trouble with her cleavage, but Ian was oblivious. He would remember the pain of Ronnie Polinski nearly breaking his nose, or the embarrassment when Monica and Frank got kicked out of the school. That day was the day Ian found his best friend. That day was the beginning of it all.

*                                                                         *                                                                                               *

 

They liked to play monsters. In the darkness of Ian’s bedroom under this poorly constructed blanket forts. It was always a game. They would pretend to hear sounds and dive under pillows in fear of being eaten or ripped apart limb from limb. It always ended up in them laughing and getting caught up in the sheets. Ian didn’t know that Mickey had some monsters of his own, and that they weren’t the kind that had you laughing when they caught you.

When Ian looked out his window and saw Mickey crossing the street he quickly made his downstairs to meet him at the door. It was Friday so he knew they’d have the entire weekend to play. When he opened the door though, Mickey was standing there with tears leaving stained tracks along his cheeks. He looked sad angry and mad all at the same time. Ian felt a pang in his stomach at that. He didn’t like to see Mickey that way.

“Can I stay here?” Mickey mumbled not meeting his gaze.

Ian knew that Fiona was off somewhere looking after the baby and probably doing school work and Lip was nowhere to be found. Seeing as he often times didn’t know where his parents were they weren’t exactly the kind of family that asked if they could have sleepovers. Plus he could tell Mickey would want as little attention as possible.

Ian nodded. “Wanna go get in the fort of doom?”

He sniffled nodding jerkily in response.

They made their way to the safe confines of the bedroom Ian shared with Lip lying on the floor in their mounds of pillow where the darkness could fully encapsulate them. It was quiet for a while, nothing but the even sounds of their breathing in the air. Ian didn’t do too well with silence. He talked a lot to fill that void. Although Mickey usually would tell him to shut it he seemed content to let Ian talk.

“Sometimes I think my family doesn’t like me much. I mean Fiona takes care of us cause she gots too and Lip always used to be my friend. My daddy doesn’t like me much. He yells sometimes. I thought that maybe my mom loved me but Fiona says she’s crazy. Like real crazy with the crazy people hospitals? Sometimes her and my dad will come wake us up really late and we’ll go out to have fun. But they do bad things. They left me and Lip in a parking lot once and Fiona had to come find us. It’s weird. I don’t really feel like I’m ‘sposed to be here. But if I’m not ‘sposed to be with my family who am I ‘sposed to be with ya know?”

He didn’t make Mickey answer the questions he just kept talking thinking that maybe eventually he’d say something that would make Mickey feel better. He told him about his new baby brother and how everyone was so worried about him all the time that he kind of just fell to the wayside. He told him about how he and Lip use to spend all their time together. And the whole time Mickey just stared at him with his big blue eyes like he was taking everything in.

Later that night when they got ready for bed is when he say the marks. They were welts, long rectangular strips that tore into his back. Ian stared frustratingly at them unable to understand why anyone would try and hurt Mickey. Ian was young and less cynical than most. He’d yet to encounter how unfair the world could be sometimes. The marks on Mickey’s back that were surprisingly similar to the shape of a belt made him angry, so angry that tears started to pool in the young boy’s eyes.

“What happened to you Mickey?” He asked.

His voice cracked and Mickey could see how clearly upset he was. Instead of shoving him away and pretending that nothing had happened Mickey moved closer.

“My dad’s mean too.” He shrugged. “Your dad yells and gets drunk and disappears for a few days. My dad gets drunk and gets angry. Sometimes he hits us. I—I’m lucky really cause my brothers are bigger and they have to deal with his fists. I just get the belt ya know? It’s no big deal.”

“That’s not fair. H—He shouldn’t do that to you.”

“Yea well the world isn’t fair Gallagher.”

Ian continued to cry because surely the world couldn’t be that cruel. To give him a best friend, what he assumed had to be the greatest friend in all of the friends in the universe and then let that amazing friend get beaten was some sick joke. His beautiful pure mind just wanted a world where everyone was happy. Especially Mickey.

“Hey!” Mickey responded gruffly grabbing Ian by his shoulders. “You don’t cry alright? Crying is a sign of weakness. You let people see you cry then they know they can take you. You gotta keep your head up Ian it’s the only way to keep going.”

Ian’s lip trembled terribly. “I’m sorry he hits you Mick.”

Ian threw his arms around his best friend angry and sad and confused. In the Gallagher house he could afford a little naivety. Cause even when Monica and Frank were disappearing for days on end he had Fiona. He had Lip. Frank wasn’t nice but he didn’t beat his kids. Who was there to look after Mickey? If the monster was right in your own front door where could you run? Where was there left for you to hide?

Mickey, even at his young and fragile age, had had the Milkovich code of conduct instilled in him. You don’t cry. You don’t pussy out. You stand tall and you use your fists and you protect your family out of honor. He saw the redundancy in protecting a family that shit on you with words and fists and belts, but apparently Terry Milkovich did not. He couldn’t afford that young foolishness that he liked so much about Ian. It was about survival. It was about staying low and out of the way just to avoid a black eye. But with Ian he could be anything, he could do anything. Ian was a whole new world that Mickey hadn’t known existed. And now that he had it he’d do whatever he could to protect it. Whatever it took.

*                                                                                   *                                                                                     *

 

Monica took off on a Tuesday. Ian came home from school and everyone was yelling. Frank was drunk and mad and the second he walked in the door Fiona told him to leave. It wasn’t new that his dad liked to take his frustrations with his mother out on Ian. He was the most like her. He was light and happy and went with the flow in an almost mystical fashion just like her. As soon as he walked in the door he didn’t even have a chance. Frank lashed out and hit him hard enough for the skin to throb from the aftermath of the touch.

It was the first time he’d ever put hands on him and the only thing Ian could think of was his friend Mickey, and how Mickey had to put up with being hurt all the time. He wasn’t as strong as Mickey. Mickey was wonderful and brave and Ian felt incomparable. He was scared that would become the norm, that they would both have their scars that would eventually become bruises and bloody lips like his older brothers. So he ran to his only safe place where all the good memories now resided.

Fiona ran out calling for Ian to come back but he was already long gone. She turned back on her father giving him a rough shove that sent the drunk man clashing to the floor miraculously not spilling his beer.

“You made Ian run away! He’s only fucking five years old!” She screamed. “Don’t worry though I’ll go find him. I’ll go take care of everything while you sit there drunk off your ass like the worthless shit you are!”

Fiona was ten. Ten years old dealing with everything that her parents weren’t responsible enough to deal with. It wasn't fair. It sucked and it was hard but she did it. Because no one else would. Because someone had to care about her family even if it meant it had to be her.

So it was Fiona who dashed across the street to the Milkovich residence and pounded her fist against the door despite their quickly forming reputation as neighborhood scum. It was Fiona who shoved Mickey's older brother out the way like he was nothing to get to him, to tell him that she needed his help.

"Fuck off I ain't gotta help nobody." He sniffed at her.

He was standing in a bare of jeans that pooled over his feet they were so big, and a t-shirt with holes in it. His hair stuck up at the ends, and Fiona had a feeling his choice of product was dirt and grease. He was small and dirty and trying so hard to be this big bad angry guy that it made you feel sorry for him. You just wanted to tell him to give it a rest.

She looked around at all the people watching their conversation. His older brothers all stood in similar stances with their arms crossed and sneers plastered across their faces. And at the head of it was the biggest one of them all. An angry looking man who looked as if he'd glared so long that his face had just kind of frozen that way watched the whole ordeal. It was as if Mickey was under inspection. This was his chance to show out, prove himself to be just as terrible as all the others. But Fiona didn't have time. Ian was missing.

"It's Ian." She murmured eyes wild and scared. "He's missing I have to find him."

His whole charade froze then as her words settled over him like a fog, thick and hazy. Ian was missing. There was no time to think or explain to his family why the freckly kid from next door with a clown wig for hair was so important. That was his best friend, so he went.

They both heard his father yell after him as he threw himself towards the door. He winced pulling Fiona with him. He knew what was waiting for him when he got home so he tried to focus on the present.

"Do you know where he might be?" Fiona asked as they dashed down the street.

"The park. We like to go to the park."

They ran faster than he'd ever moved in his whole life. Faster than when he was running from his own dad. Faster than when they'd dashed through the roads together. It was an act of desperation. He needed to get to Ian and know he was okay. Ian was the only one that cared about Mickey. Ian was the only one that understood.

Ian was sitting in the cave he and Mickey had built together. It was really just planks of wood they'd found held up by big sticks and he was sitting in the dirt with his knees pulled up to his chest crying. He was scared and hurt and alone. He'd thought that the cave would protect him from the pain and make him feel better, but he quickly realized that it wasn't the same without Mickey. What made the fort special was having Mickey there with him.

"Ian?"

Ian looked up startled shoving himself farther back until his back touched one of the wooden beams.

Mickey's head quickly ducked inside and those blue eyes met his.

"It's just me." He said softly. "And your sister. It's okay."

Ian shook his head arms wrapped around himself as he rocked back and forth with tears rolling over his cheeks.

"He h—hit me Mick. I—I was scared and I didn't know where to go. I didn't . . . I—I..."

"Hey it's alright. I promise, it's okay."

Mickey took a seat at the mouth of their mini cave looking over his tiny friend. He was just a little ball of pale skin and freckles and the bruise on his cheek had already turned a deep purple. He might've only been two years older than Ian but in that moment he felt like they were years and years apart, as if he was looking at some younger version of himself. It reminded him of the first time he'd gotten a taste of dad's rage. How bad it hurt. How scared he'd been. He didn't wish that on his worst enemy. And for Ian? It just made him angry that he even got a taste of what that felt like.

"You gotta go home Ian." He explained.

Ian shook his head hastily. "No I just wanna stay here. With you."

"Why'd you wanna stay with dumb ole me anyway. I'm not that fun."

"You're my best friend Mickey." Ian insisted with undoubtable devotion.

Mickey's eyes widened softly at that. He'd never had a friend before let alone a best one. And once Ian said it was just so. They were best friends. They told each other everything. They were there for each other no matter what consequences that might bring. It was Mickey and Ian against the world. He hadn't known he could care about a person like that. The even more surprising part was that there was person in the world that cared about him, that wanted him around.

"Alright. I'm your best friend. So you should trust me right?" He asked.

Ian nodded softly. "Yea I guess so."

"Then trust me. You gotta go back home. I mean you don't even got any snacks. And whose gonna help with Debbie and Carl if you're not there? And our fort! Ian our fort is sitting there all by itself and it could collapse at any second if you're not there to take care of it. See? We gotta go back."

Ian managed a small smile through his hiccups and sniffles.

"It's the fort of doom Mick it wouldn't collapse." He insisted.

Mickey shrugged. "Yea maybe, maybe not though. You willing to take that chance? I bet Batman wouldn't."

Ian stared at him for a second judging whether or not he should leave the seemingly safe confines of his cave. In the end Mickey reached out his hand for Ian's and he couldn't refuse. He'd do just about anything Mickey asked him to.

The second Ian was out from under the cave Fiona was grabbing him up off the ground and practically squeezing him to death. Her fingers were in his hair, lips pressing sharp, quick kisses on every visible surface of his skin especially on the bruise.

"I'm so sorry sweetface. I'm so sorry he did that to you." She sighed into his ear.

And there in the protection of Fiona's arms with his best friend right beside him Ian felt safe. He felt okay again.

They walked home together Fiona carrying her little brother in her arms. Ian had his head on her shoulder and his arm was reached out grasping lightly onto Mickey's hand. He fell asleep that way, allowing himself to curl into that safety.

Eventually after the sun had melted into drippy liquid in the sky they came to the divide between their two houses. Fiona gave Mickey a huge smile as he detangled his fingers from Ian's. Something about her told him he didn't have to be defensive with her. Fiona wasn't the enemy.

"Thank you for helping me find him. I really appreciate it."

He shrugged. "No biggie. Somebody's gotta keep track of him a carnival might come by and mistake him for a freckly clown." He muttered.

Fiona snorted. "Yea okay. Monica disappeared so things are gonna be a little hectic I think. You can come by tomorrow, keep Ian company if you want."

"okay." He said softly.

"Bye Mickey."

"Bye Fiona."

He nodded in their direction before towing himself towards his house. It was hard to believe his feet had ever touched the ground because Mickey was surely soaring. He had helped someone. He did something important. He found Ian and brought him back home and everything was okay because Mickey had been there. It was the first time in his whole life that he actually felt needed and God was it a good feeling.

"Did you find your friend?"

Mickey looked over where his dad was sitting at the kitchen table, his belt resting lightly in front of him. And just like that Mickey collided face first with the ground as if his cloud had been snatched from directly underneath him. He was falling hard and his father was gonna make sure he felt the impact.

"Y—Yea. He was just at the park. No biggie."

"Good." Terry nodded fingers twitching in anticipation.

Mickey's eyes traveled to the door as the mental math began to kick in. About ten seconds to make it to the stairs. Another thirteen to get to the top and twenty max to find an adequate hiding spot. Terry's eyes were boring into him like he was his prey, like he was a target.

"Don't run. It only makes it so much worse when you run." He murmured.

And then they were both up Terry growling and Mickey crying out in fear as the table stumbled over from his Father's aggression. Terry was overweight and unfit, but Mickey's legs were still small as he awaited his growth spurt. It let him tumbling up the stairs with his father close behind. He would catch him; he always did, and it would be bad. The problem, the main difference between Mickey and his brothers, was that he was a fighter. Maybe that's why his dad seemed to love him and resent him more than the others all the same time. He was exactly the thing Terry had never been, the thing Terry had taken the same punches and hits for.

The belt caught him in the face that time, rupturing one of the blood vessels in his eye. Later when his mother took him to the clinic they would call it a subconjunctival hemorrhage, and the doctor would ignore the red mark that so clearly was the indent of a belt because it was the Southside. And the next day when he saw Ian they didn't need to speak or feel sorry for each other.  They both had pretty shitty lives, but they had each other. Best friends forever right?


	2. The Fault in Our Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is seven. Mickey is nine.

Ian is seven when they join little league together. Mickey was nine years old but still new so they ended up on the same team and everything. It wasn't nearly as well organized as one might think. Southside baseball teams rarely were, but Ian was just happy to be playing. They'd had practices and Ian was a natural with the bat. Mickey was even better. He swung like he punched, harsh and swift and when he hit the ball it usually went pretty far. So Ian was positive that their summer would be full of grass stains and victories celebrated at the Alibi or maybe an actual restaurant that served drinks from somewhere other than the tap. But no. Mickey Milkovich was very insistent on ruining the dreams of his best friend. First game of the season and he decides what better to do during a baseball game than to piss on first base.

Ian had never been madder at anyone in all of his life. Mickey got kicked off the team and Ian had to quit through association because there was no way he was gonna play without Mickey. That didn't mean he was gonna be a pussy about it though. Mickey got a piece of his mind.

"You didn't have to pull your dick out in the first game of the season asshole." Ian spat shoving his best friend roughly.

He meant to be menacing and scary the way Mickey knew how to be but he just came off looking like an upset puppy.

Mickey laughed. "Me and teams don't work out so well Gallagher. There's no I in team and _I_ don't give a fuck about anyone so . . ."

"What about me?!"

"What about you?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"I'm your best friend there's a me in team ya know. You didn't even stop to think about me! I had to quit the team because of you!"

"No one told you to do that Gallagher, you didn't have to quit the team." He muttered rolling his eyes.

This kid was so fucking dramatic Mickey didn't know how he put up with him sometimes. Mickey had only joined the team to get out of the house and hang out with Ian. Their coach was a dick though, always thumbing down his nose at Mickey because he was a Milkovich. In the two years they'd live in Canaryville the name already had a negative connotation. That didn't mean Mickey had to put up with dickheads because of it.

"I did too. So now what are we gonna do? And you owe me big time."

Mickey wanted to tell him he didn't owe him shit, but that didn't work too well when Gallagher was throwing those annoying fucking puppy dog eyes out all over the place.

"Wanna go sneak beer out of my fridge?" He shrugged.

"Fiona says I gots to wait till I'm at least eleven."

"Well Fiona ain't here is she? Come on Gallagher move it or lose it."

So they made their way into the Milkovich residence where Mandy was sitting on the floor watching tv. She watched them "sneak" into the fridge and grab one of the numerous six packs. Instead of a dozen of eggs the Milkovichs just had a dozen of beers and then some.

"Bring me one or I'll tell Mom you're drinking!" She called eyes still on the screen.

"You're too young, fucking snitch!" He yelled back at her.

"I'm Ian's age dumb fuck!"

Mickey just chuckled as they all collapsed on the couch together with their respective alcoholic beverages. Mandy was the baby and the only girl, which meant their Mom tried the hardest to keep her pure. A lot of fucking good that was doing, her mouth was worse than all the boys combined. She had long dark brown hair the same shade as Mickey's though every year it continued to darken like his. She was pretty and nice unless you pissed her off, which seemed to be a very easy thing to do. Regardless Ian liked adding her to his Mickey and Ian duo. He thought that Mickey liked it too he was just too stubborn to admit it.

"Hi Ian." She smiled softly.

Ian returned the smile. "Hey Mandy. I like your hair today it's really pretty."

That caused a giggle to burst from Mandy's lips and a scowl to form on Mickey's.

"You flirting with my sister Gallagher?!"

Ian's face immediately reddened as if he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Mandy shoved at her brother roughly causing him to slosh his beer all over the couch.

"He was just being friendly asshole! You should try it sometime!"

The truth was Ian was already having those thoughts. He'd look at Lip who had his first girlfriend by the age of five and he knew that he was different. It wasn't that he didn't feel like a boy or anything like that he just . . . felt weird about girls. Or maybe it wasn't that he felt weird, but that he didn't feel anything at all. Fiona insisted that he was just a late bloomer, that those feelings would come when he got older, but he wasn't so sure. Girls were his friends but he didn't wanna kiss them or any of that stuff. There wasn't a word for it yet in his head; he just felt like an outsider.

They spent the afternoon drinking beers, Ian not so much, and watching terrible movies together. They laughed and joked around shoving at each other. It was always fun when the rest of their family was out of the house. Ian's was always full of kids, so when the older boys would go on trips with Terry, and Mickey's mom was working they had more fun at the Milkovich house.

The summer was supposed to be about having fun. Ian was seven and he felt like he was growing up. He'd distanced himself a little after Monica left. Monica always treated him the best and with Fiona and Lip(and Frank when he needed something and felt like pitching in) raising Carl and Debbie he felt out of place in his own home. And he was okay with that, he was okay with fading in the background if it meant his family was taken care of cause he loved them. And when he needed someone to understand or listen he had Mickey. They had each other to lean on through anything.

So that day when Iggy stumbled in crying and the oldest brothers walked in stone faced and silent Ian thought he was prepared for anything. Mickey had been there when Monica left, when Frank hit him, when Lip called him a baby and told him to go away. Mickey was there for all of it so surely Ian could do the same. And then two words came hurtling at them and changed everything.

"Mom's dead."

And all of sudden their day of fun turned into this tornado of fear and pain and hurt. Ian lost his footing on where he fit in in Mickey's life just that fast and it was horrible. Mandy was crying, screaming more like it, and they were some of the most somber sounds he'd heard in all his seven years. Terry was nowhere to be found which more often than not meant he was off somewhere getting drunk. It was just the siblings all staring at each other trying not to break down because they'd always been taught to do the opposite.

"Are you okay?" Ian whispered as if no one but Mickey would hear.

He didn't know why he said those particular words, as if Mickey would be okay, but he just had to say something. Mickey was crying and it hurt and he just wanted to make it stop, but he didn't know how.

"Go home Ian." Mickey mumbled.

"What? N—No I wanna stay." He replied stubbornly still set in his childish ways.

"I said go home Gallagher. Now!"

When Ian didn't move Mickey only seemed to get angry. He snatched Ian up by his shirt and tugged him towards the door viciously. It was like Ian was the enemy, like he was the reason Mickey's mom had died. And for the first time Ian was afraid of Mickey. Because you see he wasn't afraid when Mickey cussed at him or glared at him or any of things that terrified the rest of the neighborhood kids. He was afraid when Mickey looked at him like he was something other than what he knew he was. He was afraid when Mickey looked at him like Ian hated him, or worst when he looked at him like maybe he hated Ian. Seven year old Ian could think of no greater fear in the world.

So Mickey tossed him out the door not even acknowledging the tears now streaming down his best friend's face and slammed the door hard enough for it to rattle in its hinges. Then they were both running for the safe confines of their bedrooms, where the covers could hide their cries and their tears. They both cried out everything into the sheets until there were nothing left. Until their throats were scratchy and their eyes were heavy and they fell asleep to rid themselves of the stresses of the world. Surely being a kid wasn't supposed to be that tough.

*                                                             *                                                             *

Weeks passed and they didn't talk.  Sometimes Ian would stay inside just so he didn't even have to think about looking at Mickey. It was rough to feel like he was on his own again. He knew Lip would've hung out with him if he asked, but he didn't really want to be Lip's annoying younger brother anymore. Mickey had given him a sense of self, as if he could actually be his own person. With Mickey, it had always been equal. Mickey and Ian. Ian and Mickey. He missed it terribly.

Mickey was having a little trouble of his own. He was nine years old. His mother had just died. His little sister was too depressed to leave her room. His father hadn't been home in days. There was no food in the house. And no one was doing anything to fix any of it. He'd shoved his best friend out on his ass and now he had no one. Nothing. And when Terry did show up Mickey and Mandy were in trouble. They were the ones that looked like her. Brown hair that was getting blacker by the hour and eyes so blue you could get captivated in their depths. They were a constant reminder of what wasn't there anymore. Mandy was a girl, she was the baby and that kept her safe enough. Mickey couldn't say the same.

He quickly became the new punching bag. Terry would decide he wanted to fight and he'd come at Mickey in full force punching and yelling and screaming. It was really bad at first. Mickey kept getting up, kept coming for him and Terry just wanted to beat him into submission. There were days where he couldn't get out of bed because his ribs hurt so bad. He was purple and blue all over and his mother wasn't there to clean him anymore. He hated her for a while. For leaving them with Terry, for not taking him with her.

The age of nine brought a lot of changes for Mickey. He lost his mom, and eventually stopped fighting Terry and learned to follow his lead. That scowl that used to be an act became a permanent fixture on his face. He started walking with a constant anger to his step. And he came to the very startling conclusion that he didn't like girls.

It had been a couple weeks of him and his dad getting along when Terry decided his boy deserved an award. And what better award than a six pack and having his older brothers take him to see a stripper. She had enough make up to make her look like a raccoon. She was skinny and flat in every way except for her boobs, which Mickey was completely unimpressed with. The gyrating and fake moans didn't really do it for him either, but his brothers were losing their fucking minds like she was the epitome of sex. Oddly enough the experience made him think of Gallagher. Not in a sexual way, but it made him miss his best friend who hadn't seen in almost a month. It was immensely ironic that his father sent him to see a naked woman only for him to end up in the same bed as the freckly Gallagher across the street.

He wasn't very good at apologizing. Ian was lying on his bed reading some book for fun, the nerd, and Mickey just sniffed and shoved him over taking up way more room than necessary. And then Ian was looking over at him with those annoying fucking eyes and it was just a little too much for a Wednesday afternoon.

"What are you doing?" He asked setting his book to the side.

"Got bored. Needed something to do."

Ian snorted. "So you thought you'd come annoy the person you kicked out of your house last month. Literally by the way, I’ve got the bruise on my ass to prove it."

"Okay so I needed to talk to you."

"About?"

"About, and if you ever repeat these fuckin’ words to anyone I'll slit your throat and pull out your fuckin’ kidney through the hole . . . about the fact that I might not... you know totally be in to bangin’ chicks."

"Mick you're nine you shouldn't be into banging anyone."

Mickey mumbled, "Jesus fucking Christ. I think that I'm . . . I might like dudes."

Ian turned on his side then so that he was completely facing Mickey. They weren’t alone in the house but it felt like they were the only ones left in the whole world. The look on Mickey's face told Ian everything that he needed to know. How scared Mickey was. How sure he was that something was wrong with him. They both knew what the protocol was for gays in the Milkovich house, and it wasn't fuckin good.

"What makes you think that?"

"M—My brothers took me to see a stripper. They were all sporting half chubs and I might've thrown up in my mouth a little bit. I'm not sure but I . . . I think so." He murmured. "I mean I don't know who the fuck knows something like that."

Ian nodded understandingly.  "It's okay Mick I won't tell anyone. Your secret's safe with me."

Mickey let out a breath that he hadn't known he was holding. He didn't know what he would've done if Ian would've judged him too.

"I'm sorry I kicked you out. Just didn't want you to see me in that way." He whispered.

"What way?"

"Weak."

"Mickey you're not weak. You're the strongest person I know." He insisted.

"Yea okay."

But there was a smile tugging at his lips and it's like Ian's Mickey was back just like that. He hadn't known he could keep his version of him when his dad took over, but he was grateful that he could.

"Can I stay here tonight? Don't really feel like going back to watching everyone tip-toe around the fact that she's gone."

Ian nodded his head viciously finding a way to press himself closer to his best friend.

"We'll go check on Mandy tomorrow when everyone's leaves."

Mickey didn't know he could be so grateful for one person. Ian who was kind and amazing and sweet. Mickey had never had sweet before. His eyes trailed over his best friend's face and he felt something, but he ignored it.

They're still lying together when Ian kind of curls in on himself. He's two years younger than Mickey yet he already has a better idea of who he is, who he wants to be.

"I think I'm gay."

Mickey peers over at him in astonishment that he can even say the words. It's almost ridiculous to him that Gallagher could ever think he was the stronger one of the two. Ian was like a superhero, like some strange entity of light and pureness with an ability to stop the darkness of the world from penetrating his shield. His heart is pounding in his throat because there's no way. He thinks it might be better if he is, then Mickey would have someone who understands him, but he can't afford to be selfish with this, not in the town they live in.

"You can't know that Ian you're seven."

Ian didn't seem upset when Mickey said it even though it was him being shut down right after being so supportive towards Mickey. In fact he smiled resting his head against Mickey's where he could smell the bitter-sweet tangs of sweat and nicotine and something else that solely belonged to Mickey.

"Remember the Fairy Odd parents with that girl Timmy was in love with?"

Mickey nodded with confused eyebrows.

"I think I stare at Chip Syklark the way Timmy stares at her."

Mickey's eyebrows rose even higher at that and then he was laughing so hard he doubled over in laughter. It was the happiest Ian had seen him _since,_ and for that reason he couldn't be mad, even if it seemed like his best friend was laughing at him for his biggest secret ever. Eventually he joined in and then it was just the two of them laughing rolling around on the bed together like a couple of idiots. When Lip stopped by the room and asked what was so funny all they could do was look at each other and laugh harder. They were the epitome of dorks and they couldn't have been happier about it.

“How are you taking it?” Ian asked once they’d settled down.

Mickey sniffed looking away. “Dad doesn’t hit me so much if I go along with what he says. He drinks so much now a days I just have to help my brothers drag him to bed. We’re still cashing his disability checks and Jamie thinks they’ll give us more now that she’s gone.”

“I don’t care about Terry or Jamie though Mick. I care about **you**.”

“Yea well don’t. Milkovichs aren’t worth it.”

Ian leaned over then knocking playfully on Mickey’s skull as if it was a door.

“Is anyone home in there? You’re not just a Milkovich, you’re my best friend. I care about Mickey, my best friend so get over it.”

“You’re a sappy fucker after fights you know that?”

“Yea and you like to avoid things that make you uncomfortable. What is it Mick?” He insisted.

Mickey huffed in irritation. Truth be told no one had asked him how he felt about the situation. His mom used to be the one that always asked him stuff like that but she wasn’t there anymore. He felt a little lost is all.

“Maybe it hasn’t really hit yet. Just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without her.” He mumbled. “She was the only thing keeping me from being like them. And now she’s just gone. We didn’t even have a funeral for her, he just gave her body to her family and that was that.”

And Ian knew instantly what he meant, that one of his worst fears was being like his brothers and Terry. He could already see it. The subtle changes that had taken place in Mickey’s demeanor since before their fight were significant. That lightness that resided in his core was dimmer. He found that he had to work a little harder to bring out his Mickey, to bring out the smile and the goofy grin. And so he made a promise to himself right then and there to always remind Mickey of who he really was. And he would never let Mickey forget that being a Milkovich didn’t mean he had to be a bad person.

“I won’t let you be like them.” He mumbled in that stubborn childish voice of his.

Mickey laughed sadly. “How are you gonna stop it?”

“I’ll tell you all the time . . . that that’s not who you are.” He insisted.

“Yea well we’ll see.”

It was weird but something changed between them that day. Maybe it had to do with knowing they were more alike than anyone else they'd ever met. Or maybe it was just the simple knowledge that they each had an ally, someone who wouldn't pass judgment on them for liking boys. Whatever it was they grew closer. And Ian being younger and more impressionable started to see Mickey differently.

He'd always been someone Ian looked up to just due to the age difference, but it intensified. When they shoplifted together Ian would follow him around like a devoutly puppy, like Mickey had all the answers in the world. The smile on his face was so wide and bright any sane person would've questioned his sanity. He was young, but he knew he was feeling something different. Mickey was amazing. And they were best friends. But there was a piece of him that felt something more, something his still developing mind couldn't comprehend. It was little and fluttering but it was there. So he went to the person he knew had all the answers when it came to love.

Lip was doing homework for the middle schoolers to help pay rent next week when Ian plopped himself dramatically in the seat beside him at the kitchen table. He heaved a sigh and waited for his brother to take the bait and solve his problems for him. Thank God for older brothers.

"Alright, alright what is it?" He asked.

Ian shrugged feigning nonchalance. "How do you know if you like someone?"

Lip's eyes quickly brightened as if Ian had just given him the most amazing information ever. Shoving his books to the side he quickly scooted closer so they were face to face.

"You got a girl finally?"

"I've got . . . something like that. I don't know. How do you know?"

"Well you wanna be with them all the time. You miss them when they're gone and they make you happy." He shrugged.

"Yea but don't friends and family do that? What's the difference between someone I really like and you or—or Mickey?"

"The difference is hopefully you don't wanna kiss me or Mickey."

"I'm seven isn't kissing supposed to be icky?"

"You'll know when you're ready. Don't rush. We don't need any more Gallagher offspring running around anyway."

It didn’t really help with what Ian was feeling, but he’d already mastered the ability to keep himself from being a burden on his family. So he shoved it to the back of his mind and let Lip get back to work.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

“Mandy it’s Ian can I come in?”

Mickey just gave him a worrisome look biting adorably on his bottom lip when she didn’t respond. She hadn’t come out of her room in days and Mickey seemed like he was the only one who cared. They barged in together taking in the dungeon she lay in. The curtains were closed casting everything into darkness. The air was stale and quiet with Mandy lying limply in a pathetic heap. Ian crawled into the bed anyway. She was the only person between the two families that was his age, and they’d managed to grow close when Ian was hanging over all the time. To Mickey she was his little sister, but Ian she was just the only other person in the world who understood him. She reminded him so much of Mickey, and he found himself caring about her just the same.

The worried look on Mickey’s face was enough to get him to help all on its own though. As soon as he crawled in Mandy latched herself onto him sobbing profusely into his chest. No one had check on her besides Mickey bringing her sandwiches she wouldn’t eat. No one asked if she was okay or told her that everything would be okay. But Ian did. And maybe that’s all she ever really wanted.

So they all three lay there, Mandy in the middle as Ian and Mickey hugged her from both sides. There was no one there to tell them that crying was wrong, or that they shouldn’t feel what they were feeling because of all the other problems in the world. It was okay to be sad, they weren’t wrong to feel. And for a bunch of kids with shitty lives in Chicago, that was one of the most important things for them to learn.

“I think it’s my fault.” Mickey admitted quietly once Mandy had fallen asleep.

“What’s your fault?”

“I should’ve . . . spent more time with them. I shouldn’t have been so afraid of what my fucking brothers thought. Now she’s gone and I didn’t get to, I never got to thank her for any of it. I wanna hate her. For leaving us behind and hurting Mandy but I can’t. I feel . . . weird. Something’s missing and it’s my fault cause I never stopped cussing when she asked, and I didn’t thank her for taking me to the clinic every time Terry hit me. She was the best thing we had and she never even knew it. That’s not fair.”

They weren’t looking at each other, yet Ian could tell there were tears surfacing in Mickey’s eyes. He could hear in his voice, that tremble that would only surface around Ian. His best friend was hurt, and he didn’t really know what to do to make him feel better. Monica leaving and his mom dying weren’t the same at all. So he did what Fiona did and reached out to hold Mickey’s hand. There was a warmth there he’d never felt before, the deep tingling sensation coursing up his arm. And in that moment he never wanted to let go. So of course Mickey snatched his hand away.

“Jesus Gallagher I’m not gonna hold your hand like a couple of fags.” He sniffed figuratively puffing out his chest.

“Mick I hate to break this to you but I think we are a couple of fags.”

“Shhhh,” He hissed rolling over so their eyes met. “not here okay? You can’t say that shit here. I’m serious Ian my dad would literally kill me and make you dump the body.”

The reaction was harsh and brash a lot like Mickey. But Ian didn’t get angry, he never got angry with Mickey like he probably kind of wanted him to. He always tried to be understanding and maybe it was just because he knew Mickey the best. He wanted him to be happy, and safe above all else.

“Okay,” he replied softly leaving his hand open as a peace offering. “you can still hold my hand in a manly not-at-all-gay-like fashion if you want, if it doesn’t scare you ya know?”

And it was through the challenging of a nine year old’s manliness and the fact that he was just a warm comforting ball of fluff that Ian and Mickey held hands for the first time. They felt asleep that way, all three of them pressed in together and Ian felt more cemented into a family then he ever had before.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

“IAN EVERYONE’S GETTING IN THE POOL COME ON!” Fiona yelled.

“WE’RE COMING!”

Ian pulled at the strings of his too-big bathing suit to tighten it against his skinny waist as he and Lip made their way downstairs. Everyone was in the pool trying desperately to avoid the baking heat that Chicago was shitting on them. Debbie and Carl got their own kiddy pool, and the big kids were free to splash around in the big one. Mandy and Mickey were over and that’s the first thing Ian caught sight of on his way outside. Mickey’s bathing suit was just as oversized as his, but where Ian thought he looked dorky and lanky, he found Mickey endearing and, and . . . cute? Not cute but attractive. He looked good. Yea that’s what it was. Good.

“You crushing on a Milkovich?” Lip asked from behind him.

Ian froze instantly, sure that his secret had been found out without him even having to say anything. Although he wasn’t as terrified as his best friend he wasn’t dumb enough to ignore the consequences of having a sexuality that bent in anyway.

“N—No! No, no of course not why would you say that?”

Lip chuckle. “Good. Mickey would probably kill you if you touched Mandy.”

Ian let out a huge breath as he realized how dumb his brother was for such a smart guy. He shoved childishly at him as they headed for the pool ignoring the warm flooding sensation that filled his gut when he saw his best friend.

“Took you fuckin long enough Gallagher!” Mickey smirked splashing water in his face.

Ian just kind of smiled at him with that lopsided weird ass thing on his face that Mickey couldn’t stand because he couldn’t hate it and jesus he was annoying.

“Let’s play chicken fight!” Lip called. “Me and Mandy against you and Mickey.”

“Like fuck I’m putting Ian’s scrawny ass on my shoulders.”

“Come on Mick we’re a dynamic duo, they can’t beat us.” Ian smiled swimming over to best friend.

“Yea Mickey let’s see what you got.” Lip smirked.

Mickey did always hate him.

Mickey let Ian crawl up onto his shoulders just as Mandy did the same with Lip.  But instead of focusing on that dickhead Lip getting a little too touchy with his sister he was trying not to do the exact same with his brother. Ian was pale, astoundingly so, but then again so was Mickey. And it was only when Ian’s legs were draped over his chest that he saw the way their skin tones went together and he didn’t hate it at all. Gallagher was soft and his freckles were absolutely everywhere. You could just count the mass splattering of them along his legs and knees and thighs and he didn’t hate those either. He liked them. He liked them a lot, and he wondered why he’d never noticed them before. It’s like he was seeing them for the first time.

He watched how Ian laughed and smiled trying to make his little sister eat shit and it was a weird experience. That was his best friend up there. And he knew that there was something different swirling around inside of him and he just couldn’t stop it. Ian had been his rock since he moved to the shitty town. He was young and fragile and goofy, and Mickey had felt the need to protect him since day one. But what happened when he started to want more? What happened when his vision of Ian started to change and he wasn’t so goofy and annoying? What the fuck was Mickey supposed to do then?

They stayed in the pool until they were pruney and tired and Fiona had managed to scheme some good barbeque from one of the joints up the streets. It was one of those summer days where the sun went down and their parents were all drunk or asleep or both and it finally felt like there wasn’t a care in the world. They could just be kids and eat and look up at the fucking sky without worrying how they were gonna pay the electric bill next week.

“I wanna see the stars.” Ian whined later that night.

He and Mickey were lying out on the roof of the old beat up van in the back and staring up at the night sky. Mandy had fallen asleep on the couch and Lip and Fiona were watching a movie with the kids, so it was just them again. They were close enough together for skin to touch and both boys ignored the warm tingling sensation they felt at the hand of the other.

“The fuck are you talking about?” Mickey asked.

“All the pollution and the fucked up air just clouds everything. You can’t _really_ see them. No constellations. No nothing.”

Mickey had the gayest thought in his young life when he looked at Ian’s skin. He swore he could see the stars painted on the pale flesh of his best friend. There were constellations and pictures like connect the fucking dots. It was horrible. It was bad and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. And a piece of him didn’t even want to.

“Maybe we’ll have to leave this shitty town one day to see ‘em.”

Ian looked over at him and that lopsided thing was back.

“Yea? You promise?”

Mickey rolled his eyes just so he wouldn’t have to focus on Ian.

“Jesus yes, I’ll take you to see the stars someday Gallagher.”

“You gotta promise Mick or it doesn’t mean anything.” Ian insisted.

“Alright Christ I promise. Happy?”

Ian just smiled wider worming his head into the crook of Mickey’s neck as they looked up at the apparent smog covered sky. Mickey insisted to himself that Ian was lucky he was a fucking furnace or surely he wouldn’t have let him get that close.

“Yea. I’m happy.”

And that did weird fucking things to Mickey’s heart. Basically everything at the age nine was just weird.

Neither of them really saw it happening. They knew what they felt and what they knew and they tried not to push it farther than that, but it all just kind of spiraled together like fate or some shit. But it would be worth it. Just a little bit longer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! 
> 
> Talk to me people   
> http://zankivich.tumblr.com/


	3. Broken Ribs and Mended Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is nine. Mickey is eleven. Mickey isn't worth it; he knows it, southside knows it, hell the whole world knows it. The only one not getting the pictures is Ian, and Ian is hell bent on proving him wrong, which inadvertently leads to Mickey falling so hard for him he doesn't think he'll ever catch his breath.

 

Ian is nine when he and Mickey sneak into the white  sox  game for his birthday. Fiona was  working  at the concession stand and was able to weasel some tickets out of a guy who had a crush on her. They could’ve walked right in but Mickey suggested they scalp the tickets and sneak in anyway. They  made a couple hundred  bucks, he let Ian keep the bigger half of the money and helped him climb over the fence and everything.  They had  hotdogs  with everything in  them  and pretzels and pizza and popcorn and stolen beer. It was the best day of his whole entire life. And it was all thanks to Mickey. 

“You want uh cotton candy or kettle corn? That’s as close as we’re getting to a birthday cake.” He asked looking at the menu. 

Ian just smiled. “You can get whatever.”

“Cotton candy it is then. Hate kettle corn.” Mickey shuttered. “ Oooo  and  a snickers .” 

He watched his best friend order something for the fifth time that day and Fiona was officially suspicious of where they were getting all the money from, but Ian couldn’t have cared less. He was too busy staring at Mickey without even realizing.  Mickey had a sweet tooth like nobody’s business and Ian thought it was kind of cute, kind of dreamy. Thought Mickey was kind of perfect in every way imaginable. 

“Wanna stay over tonight? We got the new Friday the 13 th  on  dvd . We could watch it together.” Ian mumbled shyly. 

Mickey looked over at his best friend and bit his lip uncomfortably. The sun was coming down strong and the result was a red skinned freckly dork that made stupid things happen inside his stomach.  His crush on Ian was getting out of hand. He could feel his cheeks warm whenever Ian caught him staring at him, could hear the irregular beats of his heart while looking into green eyes. It wasn’t fair for Ian to look like that.

 At the age of eleven, he was already a late comer in the Milkovich family. He wasn’t making out with girls, wasn’t talking about tits at every moment like his brothers. He only had one porn mag that he kept in plain sight which probably just shouted, “LOOK AT ME I LIKE BOOBIES!” But he didn’t. He liked freckles and pale skin and curly red hair that changed its hue in the sunlight. He liked Ian. He liked him so much it was absolutely terrifying, so terrifying that he never found it within himself to even think about Ian liking him back. 

“Sure. We can sc are the shit out of Carl again.” 

Ian’s eyes brightened with excitement. “Yea and then we can go out to the van with the sun goes down.” 

Gallagher liked looking up at the sky, and apparently the only human in the world who would sit through that boring shit with him was Mickey. 

“Yea, okay. Only  cause  it’s your birthday.” 

They went home that day sun-burned with foam fingers, belly aches, and smiles that couldn’t get any wider if they tried. Fiona stopped and got pizza and they all got a bunch of blankets and pillows for the living room to set the  aesthetics  for the night. They turned out all of the lights and watched the blood and guts pour. Ian found himself leaning into Mickey’s side under the blanket that they shared. No one could really see them, but Mickey could feel him. Every nerve ending in his body was extremely aware of the fact that Ian Gallagher was pressing his face into his neck whenever something got to o  gory. That wasn’t just something he could ignore. 

Maybe it wasn’t his nerve endings but his blood vessels, because all of a sudden Ian took a deep  breath  accidently blowing softly into Mickey’s ear and . . . yep. That’s a boner.  There was no denying the very obvious, very hard tent that had formed in his pants.  Fucking Gallagher.  He willed it to go away, even begged the boner Gods to do him a solid and not make his solid so obvious. Then all of a sudden Ian jumped again and his lips touched right below his ear.  Yea, no.

“ Gotta  piss.”  Mickey mumbled jumping up and running boner first for the bathroom. 

He wanted it to go away. It was embarrassing as all fuck. He kept staring  at it just mentally screaming  Go away! Go away! Go away!   But it was useless. He couldn’t get the feel of Ian’s lips off his neck. His heat was still vibrating on Mickey’s skin settling deep in his chest. There was no chance. He reached into his pants fingers wrapping around his penis with thoughts of his best friend on his mind and it sure as hell wasn’t the first time. He needed to get a fucking a grip. 

He tightened his fist and sighed.

“That’s better.” 

* * *

“Say cinnamon.” Mickey demanded poking Ian’s cheeks. 

“ Miiiiiiick  stop!” The younger boy whined. 

“Oh come on freckles just say it and I’ll leave you alone.  Promise.”

Ian grunted that tiny squiggle forming between his eyebrows when he got frustrated prominent as ever. 

“ Cimanim ….  Ci manimon . CIMANOM .”

And that was it Mickey keeled over with laughter, cheeks reddening and tears spilling down his cheeks. It never got old. Ian had lost all of his baby teeth except for the front two. So when they were the last to go, he had a little bit of a lisp.  It was embarrassing and annoying and frustrating and he wished that Mickey would let it go but he never did.  Asshole.

“Fuck off Mickey! I hate you!” 

He got red in the face, embarrassment flooding his system like a tidal wave.  It happened every single time Mickey did it, so he wasn’t sure why his best friend continued to do it, but there was nothing that could stop him apparently. He got off the couch ready to storm off as always when he was suddenly tackled to the ground, Mickey pinning him easily beneath him. He was still out of breath from laughing, but his eyes were the craziest shade of blue and his lips a perfect pale pink. He stared at Ian and  he thought  maybe at his lips too , but he was sure that was nothing but his own mind talking. 

Ian wanted to lean up and chase away the distance between them. His heart hammered pitifully in his chest and he was terrified that Mickey would know, he would find out and laugh at him. He’d started  gelling  his hair up at that point and Ian had to bite his lip to stop himself from touching it. Mickey’s went to that lip and a shutter seemed to pass through the both of them. 

“Don’t get so mad all the time. I was just having fun. I’m not trying to hurt you. I won’t do that ever alright?” 

Ian seemed to deflate a little bit at that but the pout was still heavy on his lips. 

“The kids at school do it too though. I don’t raise my hand anymore to answer questions. Everyone thinks I’m some dumb little kid and I’m not.” He explained stubbornly. 

His eyes softened at he stared up at Mickey double intent appearing in his words. 

“I don’t wanna be a dumb little kid.” 

And that was the problem. Mickey was two years older, which in the grand scheme of things wasn’t that big of a deal but in kid years was an eternity. They were in different circles of kids every day, different  hallways , different lunch  rooms . He felt like Mickey was always too far out of his reach, he thought that Mickey looked at him like everyone else. But that was the furthest from the truth. Mickey looked at him as one of his own, as an equal rather than  an other . 

“You’ re not just some  kid. Tell me who did it and I’ll slash the tires on their bikes.”

There it was, just the very edge of his lip curling up before the rest of his mouth follow suite. He couldn’t help but think that was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, the thought appearing too quick for him to suppress it. 

“You don’t have to protect me all the time you know? I can protect myself. I’m just as Southside as you are.” He said defiantly. 

“ Yea  but you’re gonna get out of here  someday . Can’t let you fuck it up Gallagher.” 

They were still staring at each other, Mickey’s body hovering over Ian’s and something was happening.  Something strange.

“ I wouldn’t go anywhere without you Mick.” He assured him. 

Mickey just stared at him wondering when Ian was gonna realize he wasn’t worth it.  But it was that very look that was making things happen inside of Ian that he wasn’t used to.  Things that he was only used to happening in the morning when he woke up, or at night when he couldn’t sleep.  Mickey bit his lip and there it was.  A boner.

“ Ngh uhhhhh  PEE!”  He gasped throwing Mickey off of him. 

Mickey watched as Ian ran away to the  bathroom   and  sighed, defeated. It had never been clearer than his best friend didn’t like him like that. He felt so stupid. Fuck. 

* * *

Mickey was good at math.  It was surprising because well . . . Mickey wasn’t very good at anything that involved school. It turned out that in all his time of scheming and helping his dad keep track of drug portions and the bills after his mom passed had paid off. At least there seemed to be some form of a silver lining in having older brothers that were dumb as dog shit. 

Ian was good at English. He liked to read because it gave him a place to escape to when things got to hectic at home. Fiona would see all the things going on and see how scared it made Ian and she’d give him book.  He’d go upstairs and Lip would read to him in the safe confines of their bedroom. Then eventually he didn’t need Lip anymore,  and he could just sit up reading as much as  he liked. It made him happy, and there was always something new just waiting for him to read. 

Mickey wasn’t very good at English. He hated to read and he wasn’t interested in writing papers for teachers that said they wanted him to share how he felt, yet ridiculed him because they didn’t deem his thoughts worthy of being shared. It just wasn’t fun for him, and it didn’t’ click the way it clicked for others. Ian could finish a book in days while Mickey would spend that same amount of time staring at the same page trying to  will himself  to get into the story. 

Ian wasn’t very good at math. That’s to put it lightly, genuinely he fucking sucked at it. He wasn’t good at memorizing numbers and where they fit into vast amounts of equations. It frustrated him to no end. In fact the only good thing about sucking at math was having Mickey to help him. Mickey Milkovich who whined about hating school only when his brothers or sister were present but way deep down probably liked having somewhere to go all day. If everything else was easy for him as math maybe he wouldn’t have stopped trying. 

“ Miiiiiiiiiiiick ,” the redhead whined. “ help !” 

He’d come into Mickey’s room collapsing onto his bed and taking up all of the room like he fucking owned the place. His fucking eyes were kind of blue today too.  Asshole.

“I’m busy here Gallagher.” He mumbled trying to hide his grin. 

“Doing what? I need your help with my homework. Fractions! I’m gonna die if I do it myself, I just won’t make it.” 

Mickey chuckled. “You’re so overdramatic. I’ll do fractions if you tell me what happened in little house of the prairie.” 

“Which one?”

“The  fuck  should I know? The book’s around here somewhere.” 

Ian shook his head with a sly smirk. They buckled down arms touching as Mickey went over how to multiply fractions. Ian watched him in astonishment as Mickey broke it down for him piece by piece in a way that his teacher never bothered too.  He felt lucky that he got to see his best friend in a way that no one else did. To Ian Mickey was smart. He was tough and funny and protective. He was all the things Ian wanted to be, and he always made Ian happier than anyone else in the whole wide world. Being  with Mickey was like floating never quite touching anything that could hurt them. He wanted to be with him all the time. That part of their friendship never changed. It was just that as they got older, he found that he wanted to do different things with their time.  Very gay and wonderful things.

“Fiona said that if I get a B in Math this semester she’ll steal some of Frank’s disability money and take me for ice-cream. She said she won’t even let Carl and Debbie  come , they have to stay at home the whole time.” Ian explained excitedly. 

“That’s great Freckles.”

He peeked over at Mickey from underneath his lashes and  tried not to make it obvious that he thought he was cuter than Chip Skylark could ever be. But he was. And it was so fucking distracting. 

“I was thinking maybe if you do the same for English we could go together.” 

Those eyes were so innocent and intoxicating. Why couldn’t he look away from his eyes?! Why  was he  so hopelessly addicted to someone’s eyes?! WHAT WAS THE MATTER WITH HIM?

“I don’t think that was part of the deal Ian.” He mumbled looking down at his work. “No one gives a fuck if I pass or fail. I’m just a Milkovich.” 

Ian sighed looping his arm through Mickey’s then. That wasn’t unusual for them. One of them would get bold and touch the other, and they just wouldn’t be able to pull away. They craved it too much. 

“I give a fuck. Get a B in English and I’ll  pay  for yours myself.  I still got some of the money left over from my birthday.  You can get  the  snickers sundae with two scoops, your favorite. Promise.”  Ian murmured.  “You’re more important than you think. You’re important to me.” 

There was that rise of heat in his cheeks again. Mickey’s blushes were the most annoying thing ever to him, and to Ian they were the cutest. He was in  deeeeeeeeeeep . 

“Fuck fine. Can we do something even remotely not gay now?” Mickey huffed. 

Ian just rolled his eyes. “Sure. You got some reading to do.”

He groaned. He hast to stop getting himself into shit with Gallagher.  It never ended well. 

When Terry came in that night to piss Mickey was lying in his bed reading the book Gallagher had explained to him. It wasn’t so bad  once he understood things a little bit more. He wasn’t necessarily interested in life on the prairie, but he thought it was cool how they grew up with such little. He liked how the main character would make  her own  fun and find the good in any bad situation. It reminded him a little of Ian. He was always the one to make up games for them to play  and come up with ways to forget about life on the Southside. It was easier to read when he thought about it like that. 

“The fuck you reading?”  Terry grunted words slurred by a cigarette between his lips. 

“Book for school.”

“Why?” 

Mickey shrugged. “Don’t wanna be a piece of shit my whole life like the rest of them.”  And you , he added mentally.

“Good luck with that. Whether you like it or not you’ll always be a piece of shit just like the rest of us.” 

And with that he shuffled forward to the bathroom as if he had actually done his fatherly duties for the day. 

Mickey sighed and buckled down deeper into his  bed wishing Ian was there with him. It was hard to not believe his dad, after all the rest of his offspring had proven his theory correct so far. What was Mickey supposed to do? Just believe that he was better than the rest of his family because the scrawny kid from next door told him so?  It was easier when Ian was with him shining his light all over the fucking place and making him feel important and shit. But eventually Ian had to go home and Mickey was left to deal with his dad all on his own. It was hard not to feel like shit  when the one person who told him he was anything but wasn’t by his side. 

That night he tried  to do something he wasn’t very good at. Believing in  himself . He chased Ian’s words instead of letting his dad’s  choke him. He just wanted to believe in something good for a while. Whether it was true or not wasn’t his concern anymore. 

They did their homework together every day. Ian worked on fractions and Mickey read more of his book. When either of them needed help the other was there.  Ian taught Mickey how to go back and remember key details for the reading  quizzes. Mickey taught Ian how to treat fractions like visuals, which worked better than trying to teach him his drug methods.

It wasn’t easy . . . at all. And they yelled at each other more than a couple of times. 

“Jesus Gallagher it  ain’t  that fucking hard just focus!” 

“Fuck you Mickey  I’m trying!” 

“No you’re not you’re just pissing around. You got a test tomorrow over this shit and if you bomb it it’ll be me who never hears the end of it .  You’re not trying! ” 

Ian snatched away from the desk then a n grily stuffing things into  his backpack  all the while completely ignoring his best friend. 

"Where the hell you goin' Ian you gotta study." Mickey sighed. 

Ian zipped his backpack up and shoved roughly past him checking Mickey with his shoulder. 

"I'll go study at home thought it probably won't matter. I'm fucked for life anyway!"

Ian Gallagher was the most over dramatic human being Mickey had ever met. And he pissed him off like no other, he couldn't stand him sometimes. Ian stomped out like a little bitch and left Mickey behind to walk around his house with a bad attitude. All he'd tried to do was help the little twerp and he'd practically bitten his head off for it. Mickey couldn't help but think that's why Milkovichs were only for themselves. Helping did fuck al for anyone. 

"What's your problem?" Mandy asked from the kitchen table.

They still ate dinner together then, because Mandy insisted and Terry had an odd obsession with making her, and only her, happy in those days. 

Mickey rolled his eyes stabbing his fork into the mac 'n cheese Mandy made. 

"Gallagher's being a little bitch as usual. 'Snot my fault he fucking sucks at fractions. Then he gets mad at me for trying to help?" 

"You're bitching like a woman over her boyfriend." Iggy snorted. "OUCH FUCK!" 

Mickey grinned pulling his fork out of his brother's hand and wiping it on his jeans. 

"Call me a woman when you don't take a stab like one bitch." 

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Some best friend. You're supposed to be there for him asshole." 

Terry snorted belching around his beer. 

"Milkovichs look after no one but their own. That little redheaded fucker ain't nothin' but trouble. Probably a fag too, there's gotta be one in that bunch of Gallaghers." 

Mickey visibly tensed, his fingers tightening into a fist around his fork. He wanted to say something, to defend Ian to his dad the way he would to literally any other person in the world. But he couldn't. Because he was scared. Afraid. A pussy. A disgrace. And so he kept his head down embarrassing himself, and his best friend further.

Mandy on the other hand had a snort just like her father's. 

"Wouldn't that mean there's a fag in our house too?" 

There wasn't even time for Mickey to blink before Mandy was flying out of her chair. The air just jumped from playful to thick and intense. Mandy began to cry holding her hand to her face and wince curling up on the floor. It wasn't a question. Mickey was out of his seat and using his fork which much more intent than to spear some fucking macoroni on him. He caught Terry in the side yelling in anger and rage and sadness. He didn’t' understand why things had to be the way they were. Why did his dad have to hurt his family? Why couldn't he just love them? What was wrong with them? 

He defended his sister because he loved her, because she was the only one who gave a damn about him besides their mom, and women didn't need to be hit. He knew going against Terry wouldn't end well but he didn't care. He was too angry to care. 

Mickey got him again in the neck before Terry got his hands on him. And then it was over. Fingers wringing around his son's neck he threw Mickey harshly into the table slamming his head into the wood. His fist connected with Mickey's ribs just as he tried to breath and the crack was almost audible. Iggy and Collin tried to help but it was useless once Terry got started. Not to say that Mickey didn't try, cause he did. He gave all he was worth. He  grabbed for whatever his fingers could touch. Slamming a plate directly over his head. Sending a punch to his kidneys. It didn't matter though. He just wasn't as strong.

No one noticed Mandy reaching for the phone or cur ling  up in the corner as she dialed 9-1-1. Everyone knew you didn't call the police, it just wasn't what southside kids did. But that was Mickey, that was her brother who took care of her protected her, and she was so sure in that moment that her dad would kill him. the only thing her mind was focused on was Mickey. Save Mickey. 

*    *                                                                                                    *

Ian had never run so hard in his life. He was  the first one off the bus and his feed touch heavy and hard on the concrete. He was excited. His heart pounded heavy in his chest as he dashed down the street completely abandoning his brother as he dashed toward the familiar house paper still in his hand. Neither Mandy or Mickey had been at school that day and he was sure he would burst if he didn't share the news. 

"Where is he?! Where's Mickey?" Ian smiled bursting through the door like he normally did. 

That's when he saw her. The whole right side of Mandy's face was swollen and bruised. she was skittish and looked almost as fragile as she'd looked the day her mom died. Terry had never hit her before. 

"Mands? What happened?" 

He stumbled forward reaching for her shoulder only to have her shutter and move out of his touch.  There were tears welling up in her  eyes and it did wonders for Ian's vivid imagination. 

"Where's Mickey? Mandy where is he?!" 

"He's at the juvenile detention center on forty-second street." She sniffled. 

He nodded reaching to hug her and kiss her forehead softly. "I'll be back okay?" 

He didn't know what happened, he just knew he needed to see Mickey. Running back to his house he ran directly into Fiona who was on her way to another job apparently. She took in his face, the blatant fear frozen into those big green eyes making them glow bright. Her little brother was practically shaking as he gasped for breath. 

"Ian--Ian what is it?" 

"Mickey. S--Something happened. I have to go. I need you to take me." 

Fiona frowned. "Sweetie I gotta work." 

"Mickey needs me. Fiona please." He begged. 

"We can go when I get home okay?" 

Ian shook his head c lutching desperately at his sister.

"It'll be too late. Mickey needs me now. He was there when I ran away. He helped you find me. Please Fiona, please I gotta see him." 

She peered into his eyes that were so shaken and sad. Whatever she saw there , whether it the unwavering devotion or just the tears threatening to fall, she couldn't say no. 

"Alright, okay just give me a second." 

She got the girl she'd met through her new job, Veronica, to cover her shift and then they were off. Everyone on their side of town knew where the juvenile detention center was. It was like the neighborhood supermarket. 

They ran together Ian  still  clutching his paper in his hand and backpack strapped to his shoulders.  He didn't even see, it was like his body was just running on auto-pilot to get to Mickey. Fiona could barely keep up. 

 " Hi  Mickey Milkovich?" Ian panted practically collapsing against the desk.   


A woman looked up at him with unimpressed eyes her eyebrows quirking up as she seemed to remember the name. She was heavy set with a face that had been carved from years of seeing kids in touch situations. Her eyes were small and slanted, as dark as her ebony toned skin. More than anything she looked tired. As if she'd seen so much, like the stories of the delinquents had painted themselves on her soul. And when he mentioned Mickey, she turned defensive casting a heavy, protective look at the nine year old.    


"Are you family?" She asked suspiciously. 

"N--No but we're like family," Ian insisted. "he's my best friend I need to see him." 

She seemed to deflate at that, as if family didn't constitute safety in Mickey's situation. Ian could feel the muscles tensing his stomach, his heart rising into his throat with ever thud of its beat. 

"I'm sorry but only family are allowed to visit here. It's policy." 

Anger pulsed through him at that. He wasn't leaving without seeing Mickey. 

"We are family! No one else cares about him like me. He needs me. I-I'm not leaving till I see him!" He yelled. 

Fiona stepped in fingers slipping onto Ian's shoulders to calm him. 

"Ma'am please. We're not here to hurt him. His family's not even gonna come and visit him. We're kind of all he's got. I'm sure you can make an exception." 

"You got that right." She muttered to herself. 

The woman sighed looking back and forth from Fiona's soft face to Ia n's red one.  Sometimes it's the kindness of others that make special things happen. And there definitely wasn't much of that in their lives. 

"Here sign in. I'll go see if he's awake yet." 

Ian's finger dug into Fiona's arm at that. That certainly wasn't fucking good. 

They were led into a room with a plain fold out table and matching chairs. There were books and toys thrown about in the corner for the younger kids that would assist parents into the room. Ian wouldn't sit down until he saw Mickey, a fact that was a little frustrating to Fiona with the constant pacing back and forth. She was about to try and get him to relax when the door opened and Mickey came limping inside with a split lip and eye swollen shut to match. 

The lady told them they had fifteen minutes but Ian wasn't listening. He was already fighting tears again. He rushed forward throwing his arms around Mickey with vigor, which caused a sharp wince to pass through his best friend. 

Ian rushed to pull away fingers trying to take inventory of what was okay and what wasn't. The ratio of good too bad made his chest feel tight. 

"Thought you were mad at me." Mickey smirked. 

"I was .. . till I got my test back." He  sighed showing him the crumpled piece of paper.

"A minus huh? Look at you." 

"Mickey," Ian  mumbled practically whining. "What happened?" 

"Can I sit first? Ribs are fucking killing me." 

Ian reached out and grabbed Mickey's hand fiercely causing that similar spike of electricity to shoot up his arm. Even when his body was broken and mangled he was still hyper aware of  Gallagher's existence. Damn him.

Fiona shot up out of her seat sending Mickey a reassuring smile and a kiss to the forehead but otherwise moved out of their way. She sat in the chair next to them not hovering but just kind of being there if they needed her. 

"Explain." Ian demanded eyes practically hypnotic. 

Mickey explained as well as he could, though he'd been unconscious for some parts and Ians' eyes just seemed to glaze over in horror at every detail.

"He uh broke a rib, bruised the rest of them. Lip has stitches, looks like I may have put a new meaning to black and blue." He chuckled humorlessly. "But I stabbed him and they could see the marks when they got there, so he basically just told them I attacked him. With Mandy's bruises though they were gonna ship us off to CPS. I couldn't let her go, they would break us up. So I told 'em it was just me and they put me here for fifteen days. Actually a relief, you know they got free meals in this shithole?" 

"And Terry just gets to sit at home on his ass and no one does anything to him? He hit Mandy, Mick. Look at you? Y--You're broken." 

Mickey shrugged keeping his eyes on the detailed pattern of the fake wooden table before. 

"Don't worry about me Gallagher. It ain't worth it." 

There was that flare of anger that filled Ian's tiny body to the brim until his fist snapped forward and connected with Mickey's arm. 

"OW FUCK!" 

"Ian!"  Fiona gasped

"Stop. . .  Stop saying that!" He exploded. "Stop trying to get me not to care. I do and I'm never gonna not care. We're supposed to be best friends. You look out for me, you protect me, and I don't get to do the same thing? That's not fair. I care even if you don't so don't tell me who I'm allowed to care about asshole. That's not how this works." 

Mickey seemed to deflate at that sinking deeper into his seat. He wouldn't meet Ian's eyes which only frustrated him even more. He wanted Ian to care, but only for his own selfish reasons. Only to make him feel whole and happy and light. But he didn't want Ian to waste his time on him; he knew that Ian deserved t he world and that Mickey Milkovich would never be that. He couldn't tell Ian that though. it would show too much. 

Ian bit his lip shuffling his chair closer to Mickey's so that Fiona wouldn't hear what they were saying to each other.

"I'm sorry Terry's mean." He mumbled fingers hesitantly touching his. "but I'm not him.  And I'll never do what he did--what he does to you. I--I love you Mick ey ." 

"Goddammit Ian." Mickey sniffled. 

It was no use. The tears spilled over edging over his dirty cheeks and past his lips. Ian threw his arms around his best friend, both of them hiding in the darkness. For a minute it was like the forts  they'd stop building because Mickey was too old.  W here the world couldn't get to them through the darkness of the sheets. Where they were  safe. 

Mickey couldn't help but wish that Ian loved him in a different way, a way that meant they might get to be more than friends. But then he thought if this was all he got, if the only love he would ever know from Ian was this, this love that made him feel worthy of living then that would be okay. He refused to be greedy, because he already got way more than he could ever dream to ask for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little darker than i wanted it too but i needed some in-between from the last chapter and the one i've already written for next. This is also unfortunately showing how far Terry's homophobia goes, that he's willing to put hands on Mandy for even suggesting that a Milkovich be gay. I think it also shows something amazing about little Mickey that he doesn't get scared, he doesn't back down, he charges at Terry like a bull when he knows he's destined to lose. And at the end of it all when he's bloody and bruised there's one person that's always going to be there for him. Ian. And as confusing as it is, as terrifying as it is to realize that Ian cares about him and isn't going anywhere Mickey can't dig himself out of those feelings. And in the end you get to see him embrace them. So yea that kind of sets up for what comes next which i think you'll all enjoy ;)  
> P.S. When i came up with the idea for Ian's teeth, i was brainstorming ways to remind the audience that despite the very adult things they sometimes experience Ian and Mickey are still kids. But i knew that i had heard of it on tumblr so i did some searching in the tags so that i could give that person their credit and I'm pretty sure it was absolutqueen. Didn't wanna leave that out. 
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated. 
> 
> come say hi! http://zankivich.tumblr.com


	4. Kiss Me Like You Wanna Be Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is eleven. Mickey is thirteen. Everyone's losing their virginity and sucking face all over the place and Ian is just tired of being left out. He wants to feel wanted, wants someone to kiss him and touch him just like everyone else gets to experience. It's time for Mickey to be that someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it actually astounds me how bad i am at writing summaries.

Ian is eleven when he sees gay porn for the first time. It confirmed absolutely everything he’d thought since as early as the age of six. Vagina was never going to cut it for him. It was weird and the video kept freezing and he had to check out the window every two seconds to make sure he was really, genuinely alone. He didn’t even try to touch himself because the act of gay sex was still confusing to him. He watched the guy on the bottom and it looked almost painful. He was ninety-five percent sure he didn’t want to take anything up his ass. But he didn’t really know how to imagine himself being the one who was giving it either. On the Southside of Chicago Ian was practically considered a late bloomer. Lip had lost it by the age of nine, and had insisted Ian didn’t know what he was missing. He had a feeling he’d been pulling his leg, but with nothing to compare it to he had to take his stupid older brother’s word for it.

The problem was he was a gay kid on the Southside and at eleven years old he wasn’t yet willing to go out and look for someone. He didn’t even want to fuck yet he just needed something to get the sexual frustration out. Or maybe he just wanted someone to have sexual frustration with, someone that challenged him in some way. Lip seemed to have that with anything with a skirt and a heartbeat. But things were more difficult with Ian. Ian was gay, and the only other person who was gay was . . . well Mickey.

Mickey was dangerous territory, because Ian was almost positive he’d had a crush on him since he was seven. And then Mickey had the nerve to enter puberty. His voice started to crack and get deeper, his shoulders were getting broader and Ian found himself literally salivating over his best friend. But he’d seen enough television to know that best friends turned relationships never worked, at least that’s what he told himself. More than anything he was sure Mickey didn’t feel the same way. He knew that if he were to say something and Mickey didn’t reciprocate it would destroy him. He was a pussy and he was fine with that just as long as he didn’t lose Mickey.

 “Guess what I did last night?!” Mandy squealed happily looping her arm through Ian’s on their way to school.

Mickey had already started to flake, doing runs for his dad to keep a steady cash flow rather than sleeping through English.

“Experimented with more highlights?” He smirked.

“No asshole, and I look great by the way, I lost it to Joey Munez last night. No more finger bangin’ for me I am a woman.” She snorted.

He sighed sympathetically. “Mands are you sure that was a good idea? Joey’s been through like half the freshman girls at this point, isn’t that moment supposed to be special?”

“Could you not be such a girl for five minutes you’re ruining my buzz. Look it’s more of a formality really. He got another notch in his headboard and I don’t have to be one of the only freshman girls still a virgin. I would’ve asked you, but you had to go and be all buddy buddy with my brother. I just wanted to get it over with. No big deal.” She shrugged.

“But it is a big deal ya know? Like what if you like someone and you want _that_ but you don’t know if they like you back? What if you don’t wanna ruin your friendship, but they’re all you think about all the time? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

Mandy stopped their walk their looking up at Ian with confused eyes.

“You’re not in love with me are you?”

Ian threw his hands up in frustration. “Of course not. You’re not my type.”

“Fuck off I’m everyone’s type.”

She didn’t know, and he was too terrified to tell her. He didn’t know how deep Terry’s teachings had gone, and the thought of losing his only other friend was too worrying. So he dropped the conversation as they continued onto school.

Mickey didn’t show up until lunch and that was only to bully kids out of their lunch money. Ian wasn’t sure why he found that endearing and kind of adorable, but he just couldn’t help it. Everything Mickey did was driving him crazy. He just needed to get a grip.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at?” Mickey grunted snatching the French fries off Ian’s tray.

Ian automatically adjusted so that his gaze was down at his food.

“Nothing.” He mumbled.

Mickey raised an eyebrow looking over at Mandy for some kind of explanation. Ian told him everything, so he couldn’t imagine something being up with him that he wouldn’t tell him about.

“Ian’s mad cause he’s still a virgin and he’s afraid whoever he’s got a crush on won’t like him back.” She explained.

Ian’s foot snapped out kicking Mandy hard in the shin out of reflex.

“Could you attempt to keep your fucking mouth shut please?!” He snapped. “I didn’t tell him you lost it to a fuckin’ junior in his ninety-eight Honda.”

“WHAT?!”

“What the fuck Ian!” She gasped actually feeling betrayed by her best friend.

He slumped off after that walking angrily away feeling just as betrayed as Mandy. Mickey on the other hand didn’t know who to worry about first. Gallagher for completely losing his shit, or his stupid ass little sister for fucking some half-wit just using her for a quick fuck. Family came first; dammit it was Gallagher’s lucky day.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind? Like we don’t have a bad enough rap around here?” He seethed at his little sister.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh so you and the rest of our family can fuck whatever you please but because I got a vagina between my legs it’s different?”

“No cause you’re my fucking sister it’s different!” He said before quickly lowering his voice. “And if you catch something from one of these stupid jackasses I’m the one that’s gonna have to kick ass not you.”

That seemed to slip her up a little bit, because Milkovichs definitely weren’t ones for sappy conversation.

“Yea whatever. I don’t need you to protect me Mickey I can make my own choices.”

“Fine do whatever the fuck you want end up on sixteen and pregnant see if I care.” He muttered getting up from his seat.

Everyone was off their fucking rocker today.

“I’ll be sure to cut you a check when I do!” She called after him.

He flipped her off heading to deal with his second headache of the day. Mickey swore that he should have less stress by not turning up at school till lunch but his sister and best friend were proving that theory wrong.

Ian was sitting outside pacing with a cigarette between his lips. The kid was pale and lanky and grew more freckles by the hour, but Mickey couldn’t find him annoying if he tried. Those fucking freckles were mesmerizing. His hair had grown darker and he straightened it now, but he still had that essence of goofiness in him that Mickey loved. It’d taken Mickey all of three seconds to realize how bad he had it for Gallagher, and it’d taken him an entire year of trying to push it down to realize how shit he was at it. He didn’t know what was more surprising how badly he wanted something to happen or how oblivious Ian was to it all.

“Since when do you snap at Mandy? Or anyone for that matter you’re like a fucking Buddha.” He asked.

Ian’s eyes darted to Mickey’s face and his cheeks got dark, so he quickly looked away.

“She just shouldn’t have said anything. It was a private conversation.” He mumbled.

“What I can’t know who you bang? Or don’t bang for that matter?”

Ian nearly choked on his cigarette and immediately hated himself for the being the dorkiest dork to ever dork in history.

“N—No you can . . . I mean you’re allowed to know I just…”

“Jesus Gallagher relax I’m not interrogating you. Look you wanna get high and do homework after school or something? You need to calm down.”

“Alright. You’re place or mine?” He sighed knowing Mickey was right.

“Mine. Brothers are out of town on a run with my dad. Iggy left his good shit in his terrible hiding spot and I’m sure I can get rid of Mandy.”

Ian’s eyes widened at the thought of being alone with Mickey. They did it all the time but with the bomb Mandy had just dropped Ian wasn’t sure getting intoxicated with Mickey in close proximity was the best idea. But he wanted it. He was an eleven year old horny boy, and he wanted to get as close to Mickey as he would let him. Besides, no one else said Ian made good decisions.

“Yea, okay. Just gotta drop off money for rent and get Lip to babysit.”

“Good now give me a hit of the cig would you?”

He watched as Mickey snatched the cigarette from his fingers taking a deep inhale and letting the smoke spill smoothly from his lips. No one had ever been so attractive. It just wasn’t possible. Ian was oblivious to the fact that he was staring and biting at his lip when all he really wanted to do was nibble at Mickey’s.

“The fuck are you lookin’ at now?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Yea nothing.” Ian mumbled.

Mickey just rolled his eyes. _Fucking Gallagher._

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *      

 

Lip was sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by books with a cigarette planted firmly between his lips. Fiona was off at work and they were just waiting for the kids to get home from school. It was Ian’s day to babysit, but he was hoping his brother would cut him a little slack.

“Hey I need to ask you a favor.” Ian said, leaning in to personally light Lip’s cigarette.

Lip raised an eyebrow. “And the sucking up begins. What is it?”

“I need you to watch Debbie and Carl for me and I’ll cover you for the whole weekend.”

“And why should I do that? Maybe I like spending the weekends with my siblings unlike some of us.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Because you’ve got a tiny, tiny heart deep down in the cold exterior of your body.”

“Yea I wouldn’t be so sure about that what else you got?”

“How about I don’t tell Fiona you fucked Karen Jackson in her bed?”

“I really should’ve seen that one coming back to bite me in the ass. Fine dammit go.”

“Thanks! Love you!” Ian called already on his way out the door.

Mickey had promised not to tell Terry she lost her virginity if Mandy got lost for the afternoon leaving the house free for the two boys. He didn’t really know what his plan was. He knew Gallagher’s was so tight if you shoved a lump of coal up his ass you’d have a diamond in a matter of days. He also knew he just wanted to hang out with him and make him smile. He’d never felt so gay in his entire life. The thought of him crushing on anyone else was driving him insane though and he knew he needed to figure out who it was. So he figured a little weed and half a beer for a lightweight like Ian would get him talking in no time.  Then he and his brothers would go rough up whoever it was and make sure he stayed away from Gallagher. It wasn’t a rational thought, but he wasn’t really in the mood for being rational.  He wasn’t jealous though. Nothing he did that day had anything to do with being jealous. Nothing.

“You want pizza bagels?!” Mickey called from the kitchen.

“Of course I want pizza bagels!”

Mickey rolled his eyes mumbling under his breath about manners but made the fucking pizza bagels anyway. When he invited Ian over to do homework he hadn’t actually been planning on doing much homework so of course when he came back his douchebag of a best friend had his nose in a book.

“Man what are you even doing?” He sighed plopping down beside Ian.

Ian was suddenly extremely aware of how close they were to each other, the lengths of their arms completely lining up and touching.

“Doing the math homework that was assigned while you were beating up small children for their lunch money.” Ian smirked.

Damn that smirk. That smirk would be the death of him. Literally.

Mickey licked at his bottom lip but otherwise ignored the everlasting need to touch Ian. He focused instead on lighting the roach he’d rolled before Ian got there and taking a big hit to calm his nerves.

“Yea okay smart guy take a hit.”

Thirty minutes later they were eating burnt pizza bagels and laughing at absolutely nothing. It was the good shit alright and it had Ian feeling chatty as fuck, just the way Mickey liked him. Or hated him, to be honest it depended on the mood.

“So who’s the guy you’re crushing on?” Mickey asked holding the smoke in his lungs.

“Shhh it’s a secret.”

Ian laughed falling into Mickey’s shoulder and irritating his best friend further. He was like a puppy. A big freckly skinny redheaded puppy.

“You can trust me.” He insisted eyeing Ian’s lips for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

Ian merely shook his head. “I’m so gay Mickey.”

“Really? And here I thought you admitting you had a crush on Chip Skylark was for shits and giggles.”

He giggled, fucking actually giggled, and looked up at Mickey with those annoying eyes of his.

“Mick,” He mumbled.

“What color even are your eyes? Fucking unworldly you know that?”

They were staring at each other hearts struggling to thump under the thick fog of the weed. Ian had no idea what he was doing but neither did Mickey and he liked the odds of them not having a clue as long as they did it together. He liked everything about Mickey, and every time he tried to pull away and be smart he just found himself falling harder. ‘Cause yea that was his best fucking friend, but he also wanted more. And Ian was quite the greedy fucker.

“I think I like you.” He whispered their faces moving closer together.

“Shut up Ian.”

And they kissed. It wasn’t earth shattering porn worthy grade A kissing. It was chaste pressings oftheir lips and nothing in the world had ever felt better. Cause Mickey was there crowding in on Ian and he could feel that heat that only Mickey had. He was dirty and black-haired and reeked of weed and cigarettes and the smell was absolutely intoxicating to Ian. He reached out tentatively to touch Mickey’s cheek and there was that feeling again. That spiraling flutter in his gut that threatened to jump into his throat at all times. He felt on top of the world and it all boiled down to that boy who’d cemented himself into his life. _Mickey._

“Wipe that fucking grin off your face.” Mickey insisted after pulling away.

The smile was big and wide and it surely had to hurt the redhead’s face, but he only managed to smile harder. Mickey couldn’t fight his smile but he kept it way under wraps which of course Ian liked too.

“Again.” Ian insisted fingers falling into Mickey’s hair.

He wanted to be cool and tell Ian to fuck off. He wanted to play it off and act like it hadn’t been the greatest thing to ever happen to him. But Ian was right there in front of him and there was no denying it. He wanted to hold him and kiss him like he wanted the very air he breathed.                                                                                                                                     

“Yea okay.”

They lie there on the same couch that Terry had ranted about how fags would end the world, kissing and touching and gripping. It was awkward and neither boy really knew where their hands were supposed to go but it was undeniably the most incredible moment of their lives.

When they heard the familiar sounds of a key in the door they still hadn’t stopped the celestial pressing of their lips, but quickly flew apart to opposite sides of the couch as Mandy made her way inside.

“Dad called, said they won’t be back until Sunday, since he got a good lead or something. Ian you stayin’ over?”

A grin the size of Jupiter spread across his face and Mickey rolled his eyes from his seat. This fucking kid was dangerous.

“Sure. Order pizza? I’ve got five.”

“Alright, Mick you got five?” Mandy asked already making her way into her room.

Ian was looking at him with hunger in his eyes and he knew it was bad. Gallagher was eleven and couldn’t keep it in his pants to save his life. What was worse was that Mickey wasn’t any better, he was on him before Mandy even closed the door kissing him rough and hard. It was better that time, and he couldn’t get his mind off all the things they could get good at if they just practiced long enough. Ian was tugging at Mickey’s hair and reached his tongue out hesitantly to swipe at his bottom lip which was just the most amazingly wrong thing he could do.

“Jesus Christ Ian.” He keened staring down at him.

Their eyes were each blown to shit and they couldn’t stop smiling at each other if they tried.

“You guys want peperoni or what?” Mandy asked walking back into the room.

Again they flew apart gasping and looking for something to do that wasn’t suspicious. It was gonna be one hell of a night.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                                           *

Ian walked out of the Milkovich house the next day with the brightest smile he’d had in a while. All of the stress he’d had the past few months felt silly now. Mickey liked him. He liked Mickey. Mickey kissed him. He kissed Mickey back. What better thing could happen in the universe?

He’d hung out with the two Milkovich siblings all night playing video games on their new stolen xbox and eating the pizza they all chipped in on. When it had been time for bed he’d headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth and had spent fifteen minutes with his back pressed up against the door so Mickey could keep kissing him. They weren’t experienced enough to go any further than that, though the grip Mickey had on his waist was surely doing things to his body. They’d only broken apart when Mandy had called out for Ian to hurry the fuck up and he’d sadly left his best friend in the bathroom.

It was as if now that they’d done it and realized how great it felt they just wanted to keep doing it. They wanted to experiment and figure out how to push each other, but there was nowhere to be alone. So they waited. Or at least Ian thought that’s what they were going to do.

“Someone looks happy. Where were you last night?” Fiona asked.

She had on her uniform already and was pulling her curly hair into a ponytail to keep it out of her face.

“I was over at Mickey’s. Sorry I should’ve called.” He sighed reaching to give her a hug.

She smiled. “It’s okay we kinda figured. I gotta work till five but I should be able to bring some leftovers from the diner. You got the little ones?”

He nodded. “I got paid extra for helping move those crates for Mr. McNeal so I put it in the squirrel fund.”

“You sure? That’s your money Ian you can use it to do something you want, I feel bad enough you have to help pay electric.”

He shrugged. “I like heat in the winter. I’m good, really.”

“Alright. If Mickey comes over tell him no feeding Carl with stories of drug runs anymore, I wanna keep him out of juvie for as long as we can huh?” She smirked ruffling his hair.

And then she was off and he really didn’t know how she did it. Monica was gone. Frank was barely holding it together and Fiona just stood there constantly ready to pick up the pieces. She worked and she cooked and cleaned and made sure everyone was alright. It bothered Ian that no one ever checked that Fiona was alright, they everyone ended up so wrapped up in their own shit that they kinda forgot who had the biggest load of all. If sticking his extra cash into the squirrel fund was all he could offer, it was the exactly the thing he was going to do.

He spent the morning doing the homework that didn’t get done because of Mickey. It took him the entire morning because . . . well he kept thinking about Mickey. And then he would smile and bite his lip and remember what it felt like to kiss him. He missed it, the heat of Mickey’s skin on his. He started thinking about the sound that came out of his best friend when he’d licked at his lip and he immediately wanted to do it again, wanted to see him again.

Ian: _come over?_

Mickey: _thought you were babysitting?_

Ian: _they’re watching a movie. Lip’s gone. Room’s empty._

Mickey: _on my way._

Ian smirked looking over at Debbie and Carl who were engrossed in Final Destination. He had a good hour before they need anything.

“Debs you think you’ll be okay if I head upstairs for a little while?”

She simply waved her hand in the general direction of her brother, completely engrossed. Mickey was in the door in record time running his thumb nervously along his bottom lip. Ian had plans for that bottom lip.

“Come on.” He murmured dragging him upstairs by his wrist.

Mickey chuckled at the eagerness of his best friend but let himself be towed away regardless. Ian closed his bedroom door quickly pressing Mickey against it and latching their lip together sloppily. His hands were already on him edging dangerously low on his hip. And shit did it feel good.

“Thought you’d want to talk about feelings and shit.” Mickey smirked against Ian’s lips.

“We’ll get to that.” He chucked cupping Mickey’s cheek. “You can kiss me for now.”

The cockiness that came over Gallagher when he knew Mickey wanted him was really annoying and frustratingly hot. It did weird things for his heart when they were together. He liked the searing heat of Ian’s touch, and the way he couldn’t keep his hands off of him. It made Mickey feel wanted and taken care of, just as long as their bodies were touching. He’d never say it out loud but Ian’s touches were the best things he’d felt in a long time.

*                                                                                              *                                                                                                          *

 

Winter passed in a blur of snowflakes and cunning ways. Ian and Mickey couldn’t be separated. Nothing really changed in that department, but the activities that took place when they were together certainly did. They snuck kisses behind alleys on the way home from school, and made excuses to go to the library to make out behind books. It became a constant strategy to get away from everyone else so that it was just the two of them. Ian started babysitting more than ever cause he knew they could sneak off to his room, and Mickey would let Mandy stay with friends whenever their dad left town so Ian could come over.

It was thrilling, to be together. It felt like it was Ian and Mickey against the world, and it a lot of ways it was. That bond that they’d formed throughout the years of their friendship only got stronger. When Mickey would wince when Ian touched him and he’d fine a new bruise from his dad, he was still the only one who could take that pain away. Only now when the bandage or the ice was secure he’d kiss him till his mind when dizzy and he couldn’t remember ever being hurt. And when Lip or Fiona would get on him about not contributing enough money to the squirrel fund Mickey took him away from the house and got him high enough to forget. A couple days later he’d cut him in on a job and make sure Ian got the bigger cut. He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

That feeling of watching everyone else grow up and having dates and fuck no longer sunk in the pit of Ian’s stomach. Sure he and Mickey never went farther than groping, but the presence of having Mickey at all was enough. He found himself sitting in class thinking of crystal blue eyes and an adorable grin that made his stomach tighten. It wasn’t any different than how he’d acted before that day, but now he knew those feelings weren’t one sided.  Ian had it **bad** and he wasn’t ashamed to say it. There was a lightness in his eyes, a noticeable pep in his step because it just felt so good to know that someone you liked, liked you back.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Lip asked as they walked through the hallway.

“Oh you know finals are done, winter break starts on Friday. Just a good time to be alive.” Ian cheesed.

“Uh huh and are you gonna spend any of this break with your family or you ditching us for Mickey Milkovich again?”

“You don’t have to say his name like that you know? You could try to like him.”

“Then we wouldn’t have that nice witty banter when he came over, it’s what the people want.”

“He’s my best friend.” He said stubbornly.

“Thought I was your best friend.” Lip said feigning as if he was hurt.

“You’re my brother, I’m stuck with you Mickey actually choses to be around me.”

Lip shoved at him playfully causing both of them laugh as said best friend showed up.

“Speaking of dirty hoodlums.”

“Fuck off Phillip.” Mickey muttered subtly pressing his shoulder to Ian’s. “You good?”

Ian practically beamed. “Yea I’m good.”

They walked together much closer than they needed to be, but they often let the little things slip. Sometimes when all you can think about is stopping and sucking someone’s face, a little arm brushing never hurt anyone. Ian liked to see what Mickey would let him get away with more than anything. They’d never held hands, something he probably only wanted to do for that very reason. He would try to wrap his arms around him and Mandy as they walked only for Mickey to shrug away from his touch in public. He kept trying to figure it out, especially since Mickey didn’t like to talk about it enough to give him any answers.

Mickey had a feeling that Ian thought because he was older he had all the answers but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was just as confused as Ian if not more. But boy did he love to be with him. He couldn’t imagine anything better than being with his best friend who he also liked to kiss and stuff. He didn’t like to think about his sexuality much, he’d yet to refer to himself as gay despite his obvious attraction to dick. For Mickey it was easier to just say, “I like Ian” though he wasn’t exactly shouting that from the roof tops either. It was progress nonetheless.

“Wanna go out to the van?” Ian asked as they chucked their backpacks on the ground.

Mickey snorted. “Isn’t it like negative two degrees out? You wanna freeze our balls off because?”

“I think I got a way to keep yours warm is all.”

Mickey quirked an eyebrow as that obnoxious grin fell to Ian’s lips. Soon enough he was following him away walking through the snow so that they could climb in the raggedy confines of the old van out back. They’d gotten bolder over the months, fingers slipping underneath cotton to grip skin, and lips traveling to various other parts of the body. Ian liked to mark Mickey. With no sure definition of what they were to each other he often times felt a little possessive. For him there was nothing better than to stare unabashedly at his neck where dark reddish bruises littered the skin.

“Ian.” Mickey breathed into the frozen air.

Ian grinned against his skin but otherwise continued his nibbles.

“People are gonna start to wonder why I’m coming home with hickeys and no girls to show for it.”

“Tell ‘em you’re into redheads.” Ian chuckled biting down where Mickey’s shoulder met his neck.

“You’re a horny little shit you know that?”

Mickey shoved him playfully off crawling on top of him and tugging at his coat. Ian looked up at Mickey with his eyes wild and bright. He hated when he looked at him like that, because he liked it way too fucking much. The freckles that dusted his face like fucking cinnamon on a cookie were stupid and cute and he would count the shit out of them if it wasn’t so gay. Hell he’d do just about anything Ian asked him to.

“Mickey.” Ian murmured causing shivers to rise up his spine.

“What?”

“Are you . . . are we like… boyfriends or is this just about getting off?”

And those eyes, those eyes with so many different tones and strains of greens and golden hues that you never really knew what color they were, were peering up at him making his heart beat harder but slower. He felt ruined, felt as if Ian was the only person in the world that could make him feel these weird fucking feelings that were impossible to decipher. And he stared at him for so long just seeing all the things that made it different than what it used to be when they were kids, that Ian took his silence as a confirmation of his fears instead of his dreams.

“I—I don’t wanna be just about getting off. I know I’m just the stupid freckly kid next door but I like you. So much. I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

He tried to roll from underneath him, so Mickey pushed him back down fingers digging into the pale flesh of his wrists.

“Gallagher look at me.”

He wouldn’t budge, the stubborn asshole, keeping his eyes on anything but Mickey. His head was turned to the side leaving his neck exposed. Mickey kissed him there, nose skimming his jaw and causing more sparks, more feelings.

“Ian look at me.”

Ian silently obliged looking up at him with those sad, beautiful eyes.

“What Mick?”

He kissed his lips then, teeth edging close to the skin, and damn they were getting better every day at that.

“’Course I wanna be your gay ass boyfriend. You gotta give people a chance to speak.”

His eyes widened like it was such a crazy thought, that Mickey would wanna be with him, as if it wasn’t completely ass backwards.

“Really?”

He nods. “We gonna kiss now or what?”

And the kiss is terrible because they’re overeager and smiling through the whole thing, but it doesn’t matter at all. They’re together. They’re boyfriends. The rest is irrelevant.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know where to find me :)  
> send me prompts  
> http://zankivich.tumblr.com/


	5. Love Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is thirteen. Mickey is fourteen. Hormones rise and Mickey and Ian struggle to keep their emotions, and boners, at bay. The fear of of their relationship getting out causes Mickey to hurt Ian in more than one way. But puppy faced Gallagher isn't gonna take any shit. And that might make Mickey fall even harder.

Ian is thirteen when they kiss with tongue for the first time. It's spring, a hell of a winter having just ended, and Mickey finally gets to see Ian in a t-shirt again. Of course it's Chicago and there are still frigid days, so Ian wore a long sleeved button-up over it which Mickey happily peeled off. They were in Mickey's bed, a chair pressed right under the nob as a ghetto lock for his bedroom door, but Mickey was acting like they were the only ones in the house. He lie on top of his boyfriend arms boxing in his freckly face and he suddenly realized that it wasn't enough. He wanted more, wanted to taste the redhead as deeply as he could. His teeth scraped beautifully against Ian's bottom lip causing him to gasp. And then he was in tongue going wild as it explored its new playground. Ian moaned desperately wondering why in the hell they hadn't done that before.

 

It was wet and slobbery and like all the other things in their relationship, they had to keep trying, but Ian was hell bent on getting some practice in right then and there. His arms wound around Mickey's neck keeping him close enough for the redhead to lick inside his mouth. They were trying to moan as quietly as possible, and if it weren’t for the fact that their mouths were sealed into one they would’ve failed epically. It was a lot of panting and deep dragging breaths as they struggled to do what felt good, what felt right.

 

Ian got hard at an alarmingly rate, and though all the signals were pointing to the idea that they should slow down his mind was doing the opposite. His mind was telling him go boy goy boy go! His mind told him to get closer, slot his knee between Mickey’s thighs and rut their hips together. Ian’s mind was telling him to keep going. And he listened. The results were magnificent.

 

“M—Mickey. Fuck Mickey I think I’m gonna—”

 

And he did. His holdout rate at thirteen was pathetic and he came in whining grunts against his boyfriend’s denim-clad crotch and it was the hottest thing ever.

 

“Did you just?”

 

He nodded quickly pulling Mickey’s face closer to his.

 

“Now you.”

 

And that is how they brought themselves to very fast, very intense orgasms within thirty seconds of each other.

 

“Jesus Gallagher.” Mickey sighed slumping his head on his chest.

 

Ian chuckled. “I know. That was . . . awesome."

 

Mickey snorted shoving playfully at Ian's shoulder. "Such a fuckin' dork."

 

"'M your dork though."

 

"That's the gayest thing you've ever said to me."                

 

Ian laughed hiding his face in Mickey's neck. Mickey kind of wished he wouldn't hide that sound.

 

"Yea alright, get the fuck off of me, gotta go change underwear cause of you."

 

Ian watched him leave positive that no one in all of the world had ever been as happy as him because no one else got to have Mickey like him. He was the king of the world just as long as he had Mickey by his side.

*                                                                      *                                                                                       *

 

Once one found out they all seemed to find out. First it was Debbie, because Debbie talked less and paid more attention. Sometimes Ian would sit in the living room and his knees would bounce like all the energy in the world has consumed his body and restlessness was inevitable. It was like he was waiting for something important. Then there’d be a knock on the door and his whole face would light up, cheeks turning crimson and eyes turning bright. But when he opened the door it was just Mickey. They’d whisper to each other and Ian would trail behind him up the stairs fingers twitching near Mickey’s back. They were almost always in Ian’s room, and it was the only time Ian ever demanded privacy. But they were just really good friends.

 

Ian always looked happiest when Mickey would come over. They’d lie on the couch for annual Gallagher movie night always touching in some way or another. She didn’t really think anything of it cause she was ten after all, but even a ten year old on the southside isn’t oblivious. When Ian goes to the bathroom and then all of a sudden Mickey disappears too, a kid can get a bit suspicious. So when she followed them upstairs only to hear low-key groaning and the same two names whispered over and over again, firstly she disappeared quickly, and secondly she grinned. Debbie Gallagher was not stupid and her brother and his boyfriend were not subtle.

 

After Debbie it was Carl who came home from school to find the boys making out in the hallway before giggling their way into Ian’s room and slamming the door shut. It was a mess of limbs and tongue and it was gross, but Carl didn’t assume anything. From then on it was just, “oh my brother is fucking a dude” because surely they had to be fucking even though he hadn’t actually seen them fuck.

 

Lip’s experience was definitely the worse, because by the time he found out the idiots had gotten way to confident that they wouldn’t get caught. Mickey had tugged Ian’s jeans down far enough to reach his fingers inside his boxers and as intensely as he was grabbing his little brother’s cock, Lip would’ve thought he’d put a little more effort into closing the goddamn door. His brother started whining an bucking and he took that as his cue to get the fuck out of there.

 

Even Liam was sitting on the floor waiting for Fiona to take him to work with her when they strolled past, Ian grabbing at Mickey’s ass just to annoy him so they could kiss some more. Maybe he didn’t _know_ what it meant, but regardless he knew.

 

Ian was starting eighth grade when Mickey was starting freshman year, a fact very terrifying to Ian.The no child left behind rule ended in high school, and Mickey showed up twice a week if they were lucky. Ian tried to get him to go more often, even tried to help with homework, but eventually Mickey would start grinning and say something like, "I know something else we could do" and Ian's mouth would suddenly become very occupied. He thought that school work led to nothing good, that he was basically fucked for life which broke Ian's heart to hear. That's why they were in his room that day studying.

 

"Come on Mick you gotta get this stuff down." Ian sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

 

"Got better plans." Mickey mumbled teeth already scraping at Ian's neck.

 

"I can get Lip to help you, you just gotta—uh fuck—try."

 

"Don't talk about your brother when I'm sucking on your neck huh?"

 

He went silent tongue wetting the skin before he sucked down on it hard. Ian released a grunt trying hard to focus on the matter at hand. As usual he started trying to reason with himself on why he should make out with his boyfriend instead of attempt to help him not repeat the ninth grade. He and Mickey could be in the ninth grade together, skipping class and giving each other hickeys in some random janitor's closet. That of course wouldn't help either of them pass the ninth grade but Ian wasn't too good on focusing on things that weren't sexual.

 

"Fine you win. I am weak."

 

"Good now make yourself useful and grab my hips." Mickey grunted.

 

There were few things in the world Ian would rather do. Before long they were panting in each other’s mouth and grinding in Ian’s shitty, tiny bed that squeaked on every downward thrust. Ian’s hands were on the inside of Mickey’s jeans grabbing desperately at his ass and his gropes were getting rougher with every second they spent intertwined. Everything was perfect and awesome until Carl came bustling into the room like a mad man stopping impatiently at the foot of the bed where the boy’s legs lay tangled. There was no questioning what they were doing. It was obvious.

 

“Hey can I borrow your switch blade I wanna show dad how to amputate Batman’s leg so that it’s on Spiderman’s body?”

 

They froze both extremely aware of what they looked like. Ian would’ve swore he felt Mickey’s heart skip numerous beats in those few seconds.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Cool thanks! Hey Mickey!” Carl smiled evilly as he dug through Ian’s drawer.

 

He snatched up the knife and was out of the room closing the door as if his brother hadn’t been making out with a guy directly in front of him. Ian was still frozen when Mickey leapt up from the bed hastily pulling his shirt back on and grabbing for his shoes. It quickly set in then that he was leaving and that was exactly the opposite of what Ian wanted to happen.

 

“Wha—where are you going?” Ian mumbled reaching out for him.

 

“Don’t alright? I’m going home. Now.”

 

“Mick he didn’t even care. Don’t go, please? You’re safe here.”

 

Mickey shook his head. “No. I’m not. You don’t get it I’m never safe. First it’s Carl, then he lets it slip to Frank. Then Frank’s at the Alibi getting mashed and lets it slip that his son is giving it to the piece of trash Milkovich boy next door. Then it only takes one drunk bastard to tell my dad and I’m dead. Dead you hear me?”

 

Ian suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Mickey was telling him very serious, personal things but the only thing he could focus on was the idea of Mickey leaving. And he couldn’t let that happen. It was selfish really; all he wanted was to have Mickey all to himself. He’d do anything to make sure that he stayed.

 

“N—No. No I won’t let him. I promise.”

 

“Oh grow the fuck up Ian, you’re thirteen what do you got to stop my old man from ending me? Ending both of us? Nothing that’s what!” Mickey exploded.

 

There’s that sinking feeling in his stomach that just feels like a weight plunged down his throat. His mouth turned to sand and he couldn’t breathe and he just wanted things to be okay. He wanted them to be okay together, but Mickey was pulling away and god did it hurt.

 

“So what that’s it? My little brother finds us together and we’re done, just like that?”

 

“ _Ian,_ ” and he says it with such bulk, with this halting presence that seeps into Ian’s bones and squeezes at his heart. It’s so sweet and beautiful, but it hurts. It feels like goodbye. “I can’t go against him.”

 

“But . . . But I love you.”

 

He wasn’t aware of the words until they’d already left his mouth, and then he never been so sure of anything in his whole entire life. He loved Mickey. He couldn’t imagine going a day without him, without that connection that they’d built together. And it wasn’t fucking fair that Terry got to take that from him. It wasn’t fair that Terry could bruise him and break him and Ian could work so fucking hard to put him back together just for Terry to come smashing everything apart all over again. He didn’t understand why nothing ever got to just be okay.

 

Mickey’s eyes widened at his words, but he quickly shoved it off like it was nothing. Like Ian was nothing.

 

“The fuck do you know about love Gallagher? You don’t love me. You’re young, and you’re thinking with your cock right now.”

 

That made him mad, because Ian knew what he was feeling, no one knew better than Ian how he felt in that very moment. And Mickey didn’t get to tell him what he was capable of feeling. No one got to touch that part of him.

 

“That’s bullshit! I know what I feel and I’m not fucking afraid of it Mickey. You’re the one who needs to grow up and not be so afraid of your piece of shit dad.”

 

And it hits him. Literally. Mickey’s fist connects with Ian’s eye before he even knows what to do. It hurts like hell and he nearly bites his tongue off in the process. But Ian knows that nothing could hurt more than the pain of knowing Mickey would rather hit him than admit he fucking gave a shit about him. He realized then, looking into the bright blue eyes that had never been icier that it’s not his Mickey standing there. It’s Terry’s Mickey: cold and hard and frightening. It’s everything Ian promised him he wouldn’t let him turn into. And he wasn’t sure who had failed who worse.

 

“You don’t know a fucking thing about my dad.” He bit out.

 

He left then, slamming the door so hard in his wake that Ian flinched at the sound. Ian was still soft and young and innocent. Mickey left him wounded that day. It truly felt like he didn’t give a shit. And though he loved his family with his entire being and he knew that they loved him too, on that day it felt like no one would ever give a shit again.

 

Ian’s thirteen when he cries over Mickey Milkovich for the second time, frozen peas mashed to his face and broken heart bleeding out onto the sheets.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Lip found Ian the next morning hiding under a beanie as if that could somehow rid him of the very obvious black eye he was sporting. And all the happiness that had been practically bursting from his skin for the past few months was gone just like that. No more goofy smiles staring down at his eggs like he was in love with them. No more daydreaming in silence Mickey would show up and they would daydream in silence together. It wasn’t very hard to put two in two together.

 

“Milkovich do that to your face?” He asked.

 

Fiona immediately sat down taking his cheek in her hand.

 

“Ian what the hell happened?!”

 

“Nothing I’m fine.” Ian mumbled.

 

“Ian this is not fine, who did it?” She insisted.

 

Lip rolled his eyes. Fiona always was too busy running everything to see what was so clearly right in front of her face.

 

“Alright enough of this.” Lip muttered heading for the stairs.

 

He grabbed the bat off the hook and was out the door before Fiona or Ian could stop him. Then he was out the door heading across the street to pay Mickey Milkovich a visit. Banging on the door incessantly he ignored Fiona calling after him to come back to the house. He’d let Ian be friends with the Milkovich because it had made his little brother happy, he’d beat the shit out of the bullies and the negative connotation associated with his last name didn’t seem to matter when he and Ian were building fucking forts out of blankets. Then his brother came home crying because “Mickey doesn’t like me anymore!” and there was an actual bruise on his ass from where he’d landed on the concrete. Lip and Mickey didn’t get along too well after that even when his sorry ass apologized. Now his brother was sitting at home with a fucking black eye because of that prick and Phillip Gallagher wasn’t having it. Gallaghers looked after their own.

 

Mandy answered the door sending a flirty smile Lip’s way and finding a way to twirl his fingers in her hair.

 

“Hey Lip, what’s up?”

 

“Mickey. Get Mickey.” He demanded.

 

She seemed to deflate a little calling out for her asshole brother while simultaneously taking in the bat in Lip’s hand.

 

“I’d go for the stomach if I was you. He’s got good reflexes.”

 

And just like that she was gone and Mickey was appearing still yawning and wiping sleepy dust out of his eyes when Lip rammed the shaft of the bat into his gut. He wasn’t gonna lie it felt pretty fucking good to see Mickey on the floor in a fraction of the pain he’d caused Ian.

 

“What the fuck Lip!”

 

“You’re a piece of shit you know that?! Touch my fucking brother again and the only thing you’ll be deep throating is this fucking bat. Whatever the fuck the problem is you take your daddy issues out on someone else’s face you got it?!” He spat.

 

And for whatever reason, whether it the fear of Lip’s weapon, or the fact that he was practically screaming his obvious faggotry out for everyone to see and hear Mickey didn’t lunge at him. He just stared at him with wide, petrified eyes. It was kind of killing the whole buzz thing he had going.

 

“H—He told you?” He mumbled.

 

Lip rolled his eyes scoffing, “You two are not subtle. You’ve never been subtle and you’ll never be subtle. We see it and we don’t give a fuck dumbass. Apologize for hitting my brother in the face.”

 

He turned after that leaving a shocked Mickey behind before storming back to his house and dropping the bat off with Fiona. He reached for his backpack slinging it carelessly over his shoulder and smirking at Ian like he’d done a good deed for the world.

 

“Alright come on let’s go to school.”

 

“What the hell did you do Lip?”

 

He shrugged. “I told him the truth. That he’s a pussy and that everyone in this house knows you guys are banging or whatever and no one gives a shit so he better stop hitting you.”

 

“What?!” Fiona gasped.

 

“YOU SAID WHAT?!”

 

Ian was out of his seat just like that shoving at his older brother in anger. Lip didn’t understand what he’d done. He didn’t see that Mickey was just scared and closing off from everything and that by yelling at him Lip had only managed to shove him deeper into that wall of fear.

 

“You’re a real fucking asshole you know that! You just ruined everything!”

 

“A thank you Lip would’ve sufficed.”

 

“Oh fuck off!”

 

Ian was out of the door with a slam leaving two very surprised Gallaghers in his wake.

 

“Wait . . . what?” Fiona asked.

 

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Ian decided to cut the school day short. He’d made it through two whole classes before realizing that math class was not where he wanted to be. He didn’t understand how everything had gotten so fucked up in such a short amount of time. Mickey and he weren’t talking; his face hurt like all fuck, and his dumbass brother had ensured that although he was very much NOT getting laid that he now might never get the chance. He didn’t know who he was more upset at: Lip for fighting his battle for him when no one fucking asked him to, or Mickey for forcing him to have a battle to fight at all. He hated both of them. Especially Mickey. Mickey could go fuck himself for all Ian cared.

 

“Hey.”

 

Ian turned around to see Mickey standing there with a six pack under his arm and a soft expression on his face. He gasped sharply when he saw Ian like he hadn’t been expecting him when he was the only who called out to him.

 

Ian raised an eyebrow. “What am I that ugly?”

 

“Fuck Ian.” He mumbled stumbling forward as if to touch him. “I’m sorry alright?”

 

Ian stared at his face for a minute taking it all it. This Mickey was his Mickey. He could see that softness in his face, the warmth in his otherwise chilling blue eyes. He looked sweet and young and smooth. Everything that Ian had fallen for. Everything that Ian wanted to protect.

 

So he punched him in the face.

 

“OW WHAT THE FUCK GALLAGHER!!”

 

“You hit me again and we’re done Mickey! I swear to fucking God I’m not one of your brothers, and I’m not a punching bag for you to vent out your internalized homophobia. I’m your fucking boyfriend and you don’t get to hit me you hear me?!”

 

“Alright, jesus—fuck who taught you to throw a punch?”

 

He reached for the six pack snatching one up and continuing his walk while Mickey checked to make sure nothing was broken. Then they were walking side by side, two dumbasses with swollen eyes. Mickey kind of wanted to hold Ian’s hand, but he knew that he couldn’t and that hurt even more.

 

“Come with me.” He mumbled around a cigarette fingers touching Ian’s wrist.

 

“Where are you taking me jackass? I’m still mad at you.”

 

Mickey smiled. “You’ll see.”

 

They ended up at the baseball field that Mickey had pissed on, another distant memory of pissing Ian off. Hiding under the dug out where the wind couldn’t get to them Ian looked around at the memories he never got and found that he couldn’t find it within himself to miss them. He’d still gotten his memories with Mickey. Good and bad, but memories nonetheless, and that was enough for him. He was still a little mad at Mickey, though that punch had made him feel good. It was always hard because he understood him more than anyone else. He knew why Mickey hit him, and although he knew it wasn’t okay it was hard not to feel bad, not to want to help him.

 

It was in the middle of his sympathy that Mickey grabbed him by the hips and pressed their lips together, hard. Ian deflated against him dropping the six pack for the much better feel of Mickey’s shoulders. It was hard to be mad when those lips were on his, moving with his, taking _over_ his. God did he love when Mickey would kiss him. There was nothing better in the world…. Until now.

 

“Wanna try something.” Mickey’s whispered voice husky in Ian’s ear as he moved to his neck.

 

“O—Okay.”

 

Quite frankly Ian would’ve let him do anything in that moment. Mickey’s fingers were ghosting down his sides and all they could hear was the other’s labored breathing. It great. And then it got better.

 

Mickey fingers crept dangerously lower, and then they were at Ian’s belt fumbling with the material and dropping to his knees and . . . holy fuck.

 

“What are you doing?!” Ian gasped.

 

Mickey rolled his eyes, but otherwise stopped his intrusion.

 

“Well I _was_ about to put your dick in my mouth. Then you started being a little bitch about it.” Then he looked up at Ian from underneath his lashes and _wow did his eyes get bluer?_   “Can I?”

 

Whoever said asking for consent wasn’t hot can go fuck themselves, Ian Gallagher was about to have some wonderful consensual dick sucking.

 

“Yea. I mean yea! Yes go ahead. Please continue.”

 

Mickey chuckled at the rambles that poured from his mouth. Ian Gallagher was kind of cute. Not that Mickey used the word cute. He was much too manly for that. It was his first time sucking dick, that’s for damn sure. It was also his first time seeing a dick that wasn’t his own, in a porno, or attached to a fucking relative. He wasn’t sure if they looked bigger close up or if Gallagher was just hung, but if his family was anything to go by Ian was packing. Regardless his first thought was how the hell was all of that going to fit in his mouth.

 

He also became positive that he didn't want Ian to ever see him naked. He was fifteen and insecurities were at an all time high. He was getting hair in strange places, parts of his body growing in ways he'd never thought possible and it was scary. The idea of letting Ian see him in that way, of being anything close to vulnerable with him was terrifying. It was the only thing that was keeping from going further with Ian, of slipping his hands along bare skin, because he was so fucking scared of reciprocating that. It didn't help that his boyfriend was even more beautiful underneath, that's for damn sure.

 

Meanwhile Ian is thirteen willingly showing his dick to someone for the first time and he’s freaking the fuck out. _Is it too small? Does he like pubes? Are pubes gross? Oh my god what if I can’t get hard? WHAT IF I NEVER GET HARD AGAIN?! WHAT IF—oh wow._ Then Mickey’s lips were on him tentative licks as he worked to get used to it before enveloping him in his mouth. Jesus it was warm, and wet, and he finally understood what all the fuss was about. He didn’t dare to look at him knowing his holdout rate was already fucking terrible. Instead he closed his eyes listening to the sounds of his ragged breathing, and the wet slurp of Mickey’s mouth. Definitely not a problem getting hard.

 

“Jesus Mickey. That . . . That’s amazing.”

 

Mickey liked the praise, liked knowing that he was doing something right in all the negative fuckery that was his life. So even if he was terrible at it, Ian made him feel good at it, and he loved to make Ian feel good. He kept going trying to work through the gag that kept making him stop and breathe. Ian; however, was losing his fucking mind. His fingers were squeezing at Mickey’s hair hips stuttering involuntarily and he just kept going and going . . . and going . . . until…. YES!

 

“SHIT! SHIT MICKEY YES!”

 

Mickey lurched backwards in surprise leaving Ian to finish on his face and chin, which only seemed to make him cum harder. He was suddenly very glad for bringing napkin.

 

“Jesus, Gallagher you wanna warn a guy a little bit next time?” He muttered wiping at his chin.

 

“Next time?”

 

He looked at his stupid boyfriend who was grinning his face off like the idiot he was, and his dick was already responding the idea that it might find its way inside a mouth again. What a mess.

 

They spend the afternoon drinking beer and jerking each other off coming in whiny high pitched grunts. Teenage adolescence made for a great afternoon, and Ian didn’t think he could ever forget it. He loved that Mickey had to move to the end of the dugout bench just to tame his temptation of touching Ian. He loved that they were both panting and smoking and so blissful in their current state.

 

He peered over at Mickey with a sheepish grin on his lips as he smoked, and his heart just clenched when Mickey returned the favor.

 

“You know just because you blew me doesn’t make up for what you did right?” He asked.

 

Mickey nodded peering down at his hands. “Yea. I just . . . didn’t want you to hurt anymore cause of me. Wanted you to feel good.”

 

Ian knew that was his way of apologizing and he was helpless to accept it.

 

“Mission accomplished.” Ian smirked.

 

Mickey snorted looking away and licking at his lip before their eyes met again.

 

“My dad used to hit my mom sometimes. He beat on us the most, but sometimes he’d just get so angry that he’d slap her. And that’s not . . . love.” Ian swore Mickey had to be able to hear his heart pounding at that word, at what that meant. “I don’t want be like him. It’s just that’s all I really know. Ma used to show us straight fairytale shit. I don’t know where I fit in, in any of this. There’s no fairytale for a faggot on the south side. I know I don’t want hurt you ever I just . . . fuck.”

 

Ian was moving closer before he even registered. It was weird, he swore he could feel Mickey’s pain. Or maybe his pain was just a result of Mickey’s pain. A cause and effect. Mickey hurt, so Ian hurt. His fingers weaved with Mickey’s, intertwining their fingers. And it was only when they were alone that Mickey leaned into his touch and let himself feel. Those were Ian’s favorite moments.

 

“We don’t have to be either. We can just be us you know? Me and you . . . not punching each other in the face. We could do more of what we just did. I’d like to do that all the time. Not all the time. I like you. I like talking to you, and I like when you let me inside this thick skull of yours.” He smiled tapping at Mickey’s forehead. “I promised I wouldn’t let you be like him, and I intend to keep that promise.”

 

Mickey looked at him with those wide, blue eyes and Ian could tell he was scared. He wanted to say, wanted to tell Ian that he had no idea what they were doing, that he was one of three kinds of love he’d ever known, but he couldn’t. Ian was one of the only people Mickey knew how to talk too openly, and even then he often times struggled to get out what he was feeling. He was better at acting, better at showing what he thought with his hands or his body than his words.

 

“You’re really weird you know that?” _Maybe I love you too._

“Yep. Wanna go to my house and play video games until everyone gets home?”

 

“Sure. Kinda wanna kiss you first though.”

 

Ian beamed again.

 

 “I could be into that.”

 

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

It took a little adjusting. For a while Mickey was still terrified of Ian’s family. But he found that when he was with Ian it was hard to be scared. Ian made him feel alive and strong, and all these wonderful feelings that bubbled up within when they were together. Ian also liked to show him that he was safe. He’d hold his hand on the sofa and look at Mickey as if to say, “see we’re touching and no one is burning us at the stake yet!” Sometimes he’d touch his wrist, or his waist, or run his fingers along Mickey’s stomach and bite his lip and no one ever judged them. Lip was an asshole and constantly shot Mickey daggers, but he’d done that before he knew they were gay. Fiona would look at them every now and again, but Ian explained that she was the only who didn’t know and was still adjusting. Still she didn’t shun them. She still asked Mickey to stay for dinner, still let him stay over, and be around the rest of the Gallaghers. It was like she wanted them to be comfortable. Just not too comfortable apparently.

 

They were supposed to be alone. Getting a snack in the kitchen had turned into waiting for pizza bagels to cook, which had turned into staring at each other, which had turned into Ian standing between Mickey’s legs as he sat on the counter. Then it was legs tightening around hips, arms tightening around necks, lips and tongues exploring. And with their heights and the height of the counter they learned that Ian’s crotch could meet directly with Mickey’s and boy was that a fun time. He also learned to start moving his hips. _Back. Forward._ _Wow that feels good. Back. Forward but with a little upward motion. Mickey moaned that feels good for both of us. Again . . . Again . . . Again . . . Again. Again. Again. Again._

_“_ Christ Ian.” Mickey whined teeth touching skin.

 

And then the front door was opening and Fiona walked in carrying groceries before dropping the milk at the sight of two teenage boys dry humping in her kitchen.

 

“Oh for fuck ‘s sake Ian!”

 

That is also perfectly the time when the smoke detector went off, and they saw that the pizza bagels had become more like pizza rocks. Great.

 

Fiona sent Mickey home with an obvious problem that had Ian feeling like the worst boyfriend in the world. That left Ian trying to will his little problem away as his sister sat him down for a talk.

 

“You know what I’m gonna say to you right?” She asked.

 

Ian shrugged, eyes on the table. “Don’t get aids?”

 

“Very funny. Look I gave you the talk when you were ten just in case you ended up like Lip and thank god you didn’t, but my sex talk didn’t address this, which means we got more to talk about.”

 

“You really don’t need to do this Fi. I’m—we’re not even having sex.” He assured her.

 

Fiona smiled at him. “Whatever was just going on my counter was a layer of denim away from fucking, Ian. Maybe I don’t have to worry about any babies with you but you know there’s other stuff to worry about. Mickey might not be . . .”

 

“What clean?” Ian snapped shooting her a glare. “We’ve only ever been with each other Fiona. He’s just as clean as I am and that’s a really shitty move to assume that he’s not just because he’s a Milkovich. Let’s not forget who the biggest trash was in this town before they moved in.”

 

“It’s not like that I’m just… Mickey’s a couple years older than you. He’s with Lip mentally. Older guys want different things, trust me I know.”

 

This conversation was not going well. Not at all.

 

“So he’s too old for me? Fiona the last guy you were with was twenty-five and you can’t even legally buy alcohol!”

 

“Hey Chet was nice!”

 

Ian rolled his eyes. As if anyone could be nice with a fucking name like Chet.

 

“Yea okay. Did it ever occur to you that maybe this isn’t your area of expertise. Me fucking guys and you fucking guys, not really the same thing. If I wanna fuck Mickey I’ll put a condom on o—or he will we haven’t really figured that out yet. If I wanna blow him I’m gonna blow him, and if I wanna kiss him I’m gonna kiss the shit out of him. We’re fine. I swear.”

 

She stared at him hesitantly with that very Fiona look of hers. Those big, gigantic eyes that were just pools of trouble were terrible. What was that Greek goddess that if you looked at her you turned to stone or some shit? That was Fiona, turning people to stone with one sad, puppy dog face. Jesus.

 

“Can I go now? Please?”

 

“Fine. From now on you hump your boyfriend in your room not in my kitchen.”

 

He grinned. “Sure.”

 

He headed out of the kitchen ready to call Mickey and arrange just that when Fiona had a thought.

 

“WAIT NO HUMPING WHERE I CAN’T SEE YOU!”

 

Ugh sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes my no smut thing we had going. They haven't done the dirty yet but you'll see....  
> SEND ME PROMPTS <3  
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	6. Army Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is fourteen. Mickey is sixteen. Fresh out of juvie for the first time Mickey comes home to a new and improved Ian. His feelings for his boyfriend get more complicated when they get into a fight and he doesn't even know it. Meanwhile Ian struggles not to feel weak. With Mickey constantly fighting his battles for him Ian starts to train or himself, but will this training really prepare him at all for what's ahead? Also Mandy thinks her brother and best friend are stupid as all fuck.

Ian is fourteen when everything falls to shit. Mickey gets his stupid ass legitimately sent to juvie for the first time and Ian doesn’t even get to say goodbye. He just went to head to school and Mandy had to tell him. Asshole. And something about not having Mickey around made everything else fall apart too. Monica came back and this time she came bearing gifts. And by gifts of course, he meant a black baby that was to be their new sibling, Liam. With Liam also came this startling idea that they were gonna be a family. For real this time! Ian wasn’t naïve enough to believe that, but Debbie and Carl were still young enough to buy into it. And thus a never-ending cycle of arguments, split lips and bloody noses began. Without Mickey there was no release, no one to alleviate some of the pain. Ian just had to find his own way to deal.

That’s when JROTC came into the picture. He wanted to feel strong, wanted some order in a world otherwise filled with chaos. It got him out of the house after school. It got his mind off Frank and Mickey and Monica. It was good for him really.

What wasn’t good for him was showing up to visit Mickey with a black eye. That never went well. He came through escorted by a guard and he was like an adorable little pit-bull with his scowl and his dirty face and his hair that stuck up in all directions. God he was in love with him. How could he not be? And if Mickey was a pit-bull then Ian was nothing but a little puppy, if the dopey smile on his face was anything to go by. Despite his smile, that usually did interesting things to Mickey’s heart, he looked angry when he picked up the phone and it didn’t take long to figure out why. Mickey wasn’t the best at being subtle.

Ian grimaced. “Hey Mick.”

“Frank do that to you?” He hissed.

“At least it wasn’t you this time right?”

“That joke wasn’t fucking funny the last time he bashed your face in. I’m gonna have my brother’s pay him a fucking visit at the alibi, teach him what happens to fucking kid beaters.”

Ian sighed. “It’s okay Mick, I’m handling it.”

“Handling it.” Mickey scoffed. “You cleaning yourself up after he busts your nose is not handling it Gallagher.”

Ian got a little defensive at that. He didn’t like that everyone tried to make him out to be weak, as if he didn’t already feel weak enough all the time.

“Why does it even matter? You let Terry beat the shit out of you on a daily basis. What’s it matter if I let Frank knock me around a little bit, if it keep the rest of them safe?”

Instead of getting angry at him like he should’ve Mickey seemed to soften. Those blue eyes ducked this way and that to make sure that no one was paying them any attention, which of course they weren’t. When he turned back Ian smiled, because that was his Mickey and no one could take that away from him.

“Cause I actually give a shit about you dickhead.” He whispered shakily. “Shockingly enough I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Ian couldn’t not smile. It was absolutely fucking impossible.

“Me neither. Maybe you should come home and not do stupid shit to end yourself back up in here. Just a thought.”

“You’re funny.” He sneered.

“I know right? How much longer?”

“Supposed to be like a month, maybe less if I don’t do anything stupid.”

“Then don’t you dare do anything fucking stupid you hear me?” Ian muttered. “I—I miss you.”

“Yea okay.” But his cheeks reddened and you better believe Ian noticed.

It was in the midst of staring at Mickey, one of Ian’s favorite things to do in the world that his eyes actually landed on something other than his face.

“WHAT IN THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOUR HANDS?!”

“shhhhhhhh!” the entire room seemed breathe.

But Ian was having none of that. Fuck U-Up. Wow.

 Mickey found his reaction kind of amusing, like a fucking wife that Gallagher.

“Oh what you don’t like my ink?” He grinned.

“No, no I don’t. How are you gonna get a job? Or uh I don’t know not scare everyone who’s not already terrified of you?”

“Awwww it’s sweet that you think I’m not already fucked for life. I appreciate that.”

“Milkovich times up!”  
 Ian sighed missing the day when he didn’t have to make an appointment to see his boyfriend.

“Love you.” He whispered before Mickey could leave.

Mickey never said it back, not that Ian ever gave him a chance nor asked him to. Ian always felt the need to say it. No one but Ian and Mandy even went to visit him, and he needed him to know that he was loved. Even if it was just Ian.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

While Mickey was away Mandy and Ian got closer. She didn’t know about her best friend’s preference for cock, specifically her brother’s, and it seemed to make things easier. Mandy was rebelling; she slept around…and around, she drank and did whatever drugs the rest of the kids were doing. Ian didn’t judge her for it though, and he was always there to hug her through the night when she needed it. The truth was Mandy was a lot like Mickey, and many of the things he found that he loved about him were in her too. Mandy didn’t need anyone to protect her. She was fierce and strong and beautiful. Maybe that’s why he did it anyway.

“I don’t understand why you go to that stupid JROTC shit anyway. If you wanted to learn how to fight I could teach you.” She muttered handing a joint to Ian.

“Yea but I wanna learn how to actually fight. Like with weapons and stuff, not just how to pull some girl’s hair out.” He snorted. “You heard from Mickey yet?”

They took their visits separate, so she didn’t have to listen to Ian tell Mickey how much he missed the thing he did with his tongue.

“Went to see him yesterday. Fucking brothers didn’t wanna put any money in his commissary account. Had to threaten ‘em with my nightstick again. It’s their fault he’s in there.”

“Yea. We’ll have to throw him a party when he gets out.”

“Cause he’ll love that. We should get him a stripper. Dude needs to get laid bad.”

Ian felt it unnecessary to share that the last time Mickey had seen tits he’d thrown up in his mouth.

“How do you know he’s not? Not everyone likes to blabber about their sex lives.”

“When could he have the time? He’s either in juvie or he’s with your ass all the time, so unless someone’s making my brother his bitch, he needs to get laid.”

Ian coughed lurching off the couch and heading for the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get a beer you want one?!”

“Fucking Gallaghers.” She mumbled.

Ian threw himself even harder into JROTC. He was good at it too. Fiona kept the house afloat, Lip was smart as all fuck and often times it felt like everyone was looking at him to be good at something, anything. For once it felt like he was. He got a uniform with his own name on it. He got to do boot camp stuff, and other things he hadn’t even known would be a part of it. They taught him how to be leader, how to stand tall and be the person he so desperately wanted to be. He was good at something, and that made him fucking happy.

So of course Frank would want to ruin that. Frank and Ian didn’t get along much. Fiona was the oldest, and he loved her cause she took care of everything and put up with his shit. Lip had a smart ass mouth just like Frank and they were a little too similar for Lip’s liking, but it kept him safe. The others were too young, too full of life and naivety that allowed him to continue to suck them dry. Then there was Ian.

Ian was good and sweet and he had a smile just like his mother’s. He had freckles and a dorky laugh and he was so full of life. Everything that Frank loved and admired about Monica seemed to also be present in Ian. But when Monica left that first time she left behind her own bitter taste in his mouth. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a violent drunk, and that he didn’t hit his kids often. Whenever he saw Ian he’d get that same acidic, unpleasant tang on his tongue. And it never ended well.

“What’s that a Halloween costume?” Franked asked already on his second beer of dinner. Dinner hadn’t actually started yet.

“Well it’s April so no Frank it’s not a Halloween costume.”

Lip snorted and Carl found it pretty funny too. Check point for Ian.

“Ian is in JROTC now at school. He’s already one of the best in his whole class.” Fiona beamed proudly.

“Oh sweetie why didn’t you tell us that’s so great!” Monica smiled throwing her arms around her son.

“Well you were gone on a two week bender. I thought I should wait.”

Check point again. Damn he was on fire.

“We don’t have enough money for that shit!” Frank slurred. “I’m already barely keeping food on the table.”

“Actually I put food on the table Frank. And it’s free.”

“Hmm it’s the least they can do asking my son to go and blow himself up in some towel-heada-stan. Since when did you wanna join the army anyway?”

“I never said I wanted to join the army Frank. I just want to learn something other than how to get drunk and mooch off my kids for the rest of my life.”

“You’re an ungrateful little shit you know that?! I work hard at my job at least monthly to pay for the fucking clothes on your back.”

Ian scoffed. “Except for the fact that we just established that the uniform was free so you didn’t pay for shit.”

And that was really all it took. Just a couple of snide comments and Frank would cuss or punch, maybe kick if he was too lazy. But he’d taken some speed earlier and the adrenaline was ever present in his veins. Frank one. Ian zero. Check mate.

“Frank get off of him!” Fiona screamed.

His fist connected with Ian’s jaw and then they were on the ground, food long forgotten as he pummeled Ian into the floor. Ian was fed up. He wanted to show that he wasn’t weak, that he could defend himself and be strong, yet he found himself cowering in fear into the linoleum. Something about Frank took the fight out of him. He kept yelling at himself to fight back, to do something, but he couldn’t. He was helpless.

Then all of a sudden the weight was off of him and the only thing he could feel was the blood on his face and the shift of energy in the room. When he opened his eyes, he thought maybe Frank had hit him hard enough to lose his mind. Surely that wasn’t Mickey straddling his father and delivering blow after bone crunching blow. Right?

Debbie and Carl were crying, Liam was crying, Monica looked stoned out of her mind. Ian would like to think that in the loss of his mental stability, he might be a little more creative. But damn did Mickey look like a knight in shining cut-off sleeves. It felt so amazingly good to have someone there, someone to make the pain stop and make him feel better. No one ever protected him like Mickey did. Sometimes he just went . . . a little overboard.

“Repeat after me Frank. We. Don’t. Hit. Our. Fucking. KIDS!”

He punctuated each word with another fist to Frank’s face and the blood was officially flying into the air. It was like Mickey got lost in the punch. His senses all came down to inflicting pain on someone, anyone. Ian wasn’t so sure he really saw anything in those moments, or if the blind rage just clouded everything over. Everyone was so concerned with Frank dying, but Ian just wanted to make sure Mickey’s fists were okay.

“Mickey! Mickey stop!” Fiona screamed.

Ian grabbed Mickey’s wrist in the middle of one of his punches and it was like he froze, like Ian’s touch brought him back down to the ground where he belonged.

“Mickey. Mick come on it’s okay. Let’s go get you cleaned up alright?”

He nodded ever so slightly letting Ian pull him from the ground as he visibly deflated. Frank fell off the side coughing up all of the blood. They left everyone else to deal with Ian’s sad excuse of a father and Ian took Mickey upstairs to the bathroom. He assumed Mickey hadn’t taken a decent shower in weeks, maybe months. Turning the knobs to the hottest setting, he went back to Mickey. They were closer in height, Ian getting taller every day and for once Mickey looked younger than him. He looked scared and sad and angry and it tugged viciously at Ian’s heart. Mickey had taken Ian’s pain away and now he just wanted to do the same.

There was a trigger in there somewhere for Mickey. Something about Terry and beating his kids like they were grown men. Something about no longer having his mother there to protect him. Something about Ian loving him openly and fully despite of everything that he’d been taught he was. He wasn’t much for the psychological “daddy hit you and now you’re afraid of [insert emotional thing here]” bullshit. He just knew he had to protect the things he loved in this fucked up world. And he knew that Ian was . . . the most important thing in his life. And when he hit he blocked everything out because that’s what he’d been taught. You fought to show you weren’t weak, and in a world where Mickey Milkovich constantly felt like the weakest link in the fucking bunch he was bound to get carried away.

Ian’s fingers trembled slightly as he tugged at Mickey’s clothes. They’d never been naked together before, though there wasn’t much either of them hadn’t seen. He peeled at them slowly being extra careful not to hurt Mickey’s hands any more than they already were. Mickey’s eyes widened as Ian followed suit, but he didn’t say anything. Ian’s fingers were soft as they took his hand leading him into the water. And then it was just them, just shallow breathing as they stood together. Mickey focused on the red running down the drain, while Ian focused on the scars on Mickey’s back. Old battle wounds. Evidence of all the times Mickey had needed someone and Ian hadn’t been there. Suddenly he wasn’t just training for himself anymore, he was training for Mickey. For Mandy. For the people who were strong that shouldn’t have to be.

Mickey felt Ian’s soft lingering touching and couldn’t help but lean into it, his back ending up caged by Ian’s chest. They stood together under the hot water, no kissing or humping or anything like that. They just held each other, and the comfort was enough to make things better.

Mickey looked up at those weird green ass eyes of his as Ian wrapped a big towel around his shoulders. They were standing against the sink water dripping off their bodies and down their underwear. Ian’s face was bruised and swollen, just like Mickey’s knuckles. He was about to make some snide comment about how they were a busted up couple of fags when Ian threw his arms around him and hugged him hard. And if the damn hug wasn’t so fucking warm he would’ve pulled away and slapped him for it.

“Thanks for saving me. Again. Like always.” He mumbled into Mickey’s neck. “Can’t believe you’re here right now.”

“Missed you. Can’t let anyone make this mug any uglier than it already is.”

Ian laughed. “You love this ugly mug.”

“I do.”

They pressed their foreheads together and Ian swore he could feel his heart thumping in his sternum. That was the closest Mickey had ever come to telling him he loved him. And damn did it make him feel good.

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled pulling their lips together clumsily. “So many things I’ve wanted to do.”

“And yet you had me naked in a shower and didn’t do any of them.”

“Maybe I wanted to wait you ever think of that?”

His lips traveled to Mickey’s neck sucking long and hard until the skin bruised.

“I’ve been learning a lot in JROTC. Lots of oral communication skills.” He whispered.

“I’m gonna let that corny shit slide because you got me goin’ over here.”

“I thought so.”

Mickey’s no better the first time. He’s noticeably smaller than Ian, but there’s a thickness that puberty’s brought him that Ian’s still lacking. Still he cums just as quick in high pitched groans fingers yanking aggressively at Ian’s hair. Ian likes that way too much.

Mickey spent the night, sleeping in Ian’s bed against the wall. Ian snuck downstairs for ice ignoring the pitiful glances and flittering touches from Fiona so he could escape back upstairs. There it was just him and Mickey in the dark pressing frozen corn and peas to each other’s bodies and staring with small smiles. Mickey looked over to make sure Ian’s brothers were asleep before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and pulling him in close. Living on the Southside was fucking sucky sometimes, but Ian had learned that you had to take the bad with the good. And in that moment, in his bed, nothing could be as good as Mickey.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Not everything is so bad though, especially not with Mickey there. He, Mickey, and Mandy were inseparable. They had epic movie marathons where they would see who could come up with the best bootleg movie. Ian made a special popcorn for Mickey that made him fall so hard for him it was ridiculous. Mickey had an incurable sweet tooth so Ian would take caramel corn from Garrett’s, the best place ever in Chicago, and cover it with chocolate on top of that. It usually got him really good blow jobs too. They would watch at Ian’s house and sometimes some of the other Gallaghers would join along too.

“Hey assholes you’re taking up the whole couch!” Lip argued.

Mickey was lying between Ian’s legs his head resting on his chest, and promptly flipped his boyfriend’s brother off.

“We’re comfy bitch, sit on the floor.”

Ian just beamed arms wrapping around Mickey from behind.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

“Fuck no.” Lip replied bitterly, plopping his ass down on the floor.

When Mandy was with them she would sit close to Ian on the floor so she could lean her head back on Ian and Mickey on the couch. She felt safer, more comfortable there. But she wouldn’t mind sitting next to Lip either.

He smirked at her and she was positive her heart would explode out her chest.

With the lights turned off they’d watch the movie, everyone trying to focus on the movie while Ian worked on turn Mickey’s neck purple and blue. He was a little shit and if Mickey didn’t like it so much he’d definitely elbow him in the ribs. But with his popcorn and the dark he was a softie sometimes.

Ian’s favorite was breakfast. When Mickey would stay the night and they’d spend their first twenty minutes of the day kissing lazily and working out their morning wood with languid strokes. They’d tumble downstairs to eat with everyone and sometimes Ian would boldly hold Mickey’s hand on the way down the stairs only for him to yank away and punch him when someone noticed. Ian would make him a plate only for Mickey to say his hands weren’t fucking broken, but he always only got a kiss to the temple in return. Then Ian would watch his boyfriend dump half a bottle of syrup on some toaster waffles like it was the most beautiful thing in all of the world. And usually in those moments it was.

“You want a popsicle?” Ian’d ask after walking home in the baking heat.

“Sure. Would rather watch you suck on one though.” Mickey smirked.

Ian would return the smirk and tug him by his hips towards the kitchen completely ignoring Lip’s gagging noises. Mickey watched him eat a popsicle in a worship like concentration as Ian sucked and slurped on the sweet treat. It never took long for them to disappear into the downstairs bathroom where one of them would rip hurriedly at the other’s jeans falling ceremoniously to his knees. Good times.

“Hey you hungry?” Mickey asked after school. “Wanna go get some dogs?”

“I gotta be at work at four, but sure.”

“Leaves plenty of time to eat and fool around in the alley out back. I’ll pay.”

“Why Mick, it almost feels like you’re asking me out on a date here.”

“It almost feels like make you should shut the fuck up before I change my mind.”

But he licked his lips and eyed Ian’s and they were on their way. Ian couldn’t not look at him. He loved him so bad. He made him feel like the happiest person on earth.  Being with Mickey every day was like literal sunshine in this dreary, helpless world. It just so happened to come in the form of a tiny, angry boy with knuckle tattoos and sexy ass smile that made his heart feel stupid. He was in love. Like crazy butterflies in the stomach, heart eyes love.

“You got mustard on your lip.” Mickey chuckled smiling widely at him.

“No I don’t!” He mumbled embarrassed. “You’re mustard. Mustard.”

“Nice come back tough guy, come ‘ere.”

He kissed him and if you would’ve told Ian that he wasn’t floating above the ground he would’ve laughed his ass off. As far as he was concerned Mickey was heaven on Earth.

“I gotta go to work.” Ian mumbled against his boyfriend’s lips.

“Don’t want you to.”

His hands were on Ian’s hips and it was extremely distracting, but Ian liked to think he was a strong willed individual.

“Yea okay.”

He was ten minutes late to work that day, with a hickey and his shirt oddly shoved in his jeans. But he did it strongly. Employee of the month here we come.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

JROTC is a little harder with Mickey back at home. He got out for over-crowding apparently a frequent occurrence when more than half of the youth was devoutly following spawn of previous criminals. Mickey wanted to spend more time together, now that they actually could, but Ian still wanted to be a part of something more, a part of something that made him feel more important than he ever did at home. Mickey didn’t really understand that.

“You wanna go to the dugout today? Practice some more oral communication?” Mickey smirked.

“I can’t. I gotta stay after for actual oral communication.”

Mickey snorted. “Isn’t that like a three hour class as it is? The fuck you gotta stay after for?”

“Well there’s gonna be an award ceremony at the end of the semester. My teacher says I could make Cadet Lieutenant colonel if I work hard enough.”

“Why you wanna do that pussy shit anyway?”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “It’s not pussy shit. It’s fun. It… it means something to me.”

“You wanna get your head blown off all you gotta do is enlist.”

There it was. The anger. Of people telling him the things he liked and cared about were stupid, insignificant. Even his own fucking boyfriend couldn’t support him. It didn’t seem to matter what he did because there was always going to be someone judging him. He was fucking sick of it.

“Yea well maybe you’ll get lucky and one of the rifles will take me out during training.” He snapped shoving past Mickey.

Mickey didn’t even realize they were fighting. He just thought Ian was pissy as always. He went about his day collecting lunch money and busting heads like any other Milkovich. It didn’t occur to him that anything was wrong. He was an oblivious little shit.

Then the next day, his last day of school for the week, and the rest of the world’s second, when he, Ian, and Mandy were walking to school Gallagher wasn’t talky and bright and annoying. He was tight lipped and reserved and annoying.

“The fuck’s your problem?” He asked kicking at Ian’s ankle.

And the dickhead ignored him. Didn’t even say a word just kept walking and talking to Mandy like Mickey didn’t even exist. Mickey just thought he was playing hard to get or some stupid shit, which didn’t make any sense because Mickey already had him. He’d yet to learn that being his boyfriend wasn’t guaranteed, that Ian chose to be with him and could just as easily choose not to. Or maybe it was just that now that he had him he couldn’t imagine ever being without him. He thought Ian felt the same. He didn’t know.

A couple weeks passed and Mickey slowly started to change his mind. Ian wasn’t talking to him, and whenever he went over to the Gallagher’s to see him he was either doing JROTC or working. He wouldn’t answer the phone, and Mickey’s stolen phone ran out of minutes, so there was no texting. It was like Ian was avoiding him or something. All he knew was Ian was confusing the hell out of him, and the only person he could go to was gonna piss him the fuck off.

“Hey bitch wake up.” He grunted.

Mandy hissed from under her pillow. “Get the fuck out Mickey.”

“Come on I need to talk to you.”

He crawled over her body like she wasn’t a human being sized lump in the sheets and settled on the other side of her bed like when they were kids nestling into the safety of the darkness and the sheets.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Okay so like  what do you do—how do you know if . . . so like say…”

“Spit it out jackass.”

He huffed.  “If someone’s mad at you… and you don’t really know why, how do you get ‘em to like not be mad anymore?”

There was a beat of silence.

“This about Ian?”

For a second he was frozen with fear that maybe Ian hadn’t kept his fucking mouth shut and she knew something she wasn’t supposed to. The fear was so curdling he almost couldn’t find it within him to speak.

“H—How did you know that?”

“Cause you two fight like girls. He complains about you all the time. It’s kind of annoying actually seeing as how you’re a dipshit and all.”

He kicked at her foot, but tried to calm down.

“Alright so? What’s he mad about?”

Mandy sighed. “No one pays Ian much attention in that child infested hell hole of his alright? JROTC it’s dumb but it makes him happy. And all he’s heard since he started from Lip is how it’s stupid and a waste of his time. All he’s heard from Frank is how it’s stupid and a waste of time. All he’s heard from me is how it’s stupid and a waste of time. And the only thing that’s kept him going through this shit is that you were supposed to get out of juvie and be impressed that he was like learning to fight and fuck with weapons and shit. It’s apparently more important than that but he at least thought that would impress you. And you shit all over it just like the rest of us.”

“Shit.” He mumbled to himself.

How was he supposed to know?! How could he know that Gallagher would go and be all fucking sweet and sentimental and shit? He thought it was just a fucking class to get through the day until Mickey came back. Now he was back and it was cutting in to his valuable Ian time and he didn’t fucking like it. Leave it to Ian to decide that he could have shortened Ian time or no Ian at all, knowing what he would choose. And more than that he felt . . . bad. Because he wasn’t supposed to be like Lip and he wasn’t supposed to be like Frank no more than Ian was like Terry. He was supposed to do all the things that Ian did for him. He was supposed to make him happy.

“Shit.” She agreed. “He’s got an award ceremony this weekend. Doesn’t sound like the Gallagher turn out is gonna be that great since Fiona’s gotta work. Might mean a lot to see some familiar faces.”

He peered over at her and wondered if she knew. He wondered if they were as obvious as Lip had said. Sometimes he thought he cared so much for Ian that it had to be branded onto his fucking forehead or something. A part of him wanted to tell her. But another part of him wasn’t so sure he’d liked the answer.

“You comin?” He asked.

She knew that was code for, “Don’t make me go to this shit alone”.

“Course I am. Ian actually likes me.” She smirked.

“Fuck off bitch he likes me most of all.” He muttered.

Mandy rolled her eyes. “Yea, yea, yea: constantly the third wheel to your weird ass friendship.”

He smiled and snuggled in for the night. They didn’t say a word to make it less awkward and weird. Milkovich sibling bonding time usually involved illegal activity. Snuggling? No. Mickey told himself he was just too lazy to get out of bed. Mandy didn’t even try to stop him.

The next day they dug through all the shit in the house trying to make a sign for Ian’s ceremony only to figure out that art supplies weren’t very easy to come by in the Milkovich house. Booze and illegal substances? Yes. Crayola’s?  Fuck no. So they each split the cost and went and bought the shit, didn’t even steal it cause Mickey knew Ian appreciated shit like that. He still wouldn’t talk to Mickey, wouldn’t even answer the door when he came over. Fighting fucking sucked.

Not to mention he had to like jerk off by himself again. Totally not fun. Well he usually jerked off at night to Ian anyway, but now every time he touched himself he thought about how Ian was fucking mad at him and it ruined the whole fucking thing. Fucking Gallagher ruining his orgasms from afar.

And then like . . . he didn’t even have anyone to talk to anymore. Mandy was always out blowing dudes and finding ways to use eyeliner to resemble a raccoon. He didn’t want to talk to her anyway. And his brother’s practically shared a brain they were so fucking stupid. He wanted his best friend back. He wanted someone to complain to and smoke weed with and steal clothes with. He wanted Ian.

The day of the ceremony he put on a shirt that was actually clean and had buttons. The sleeves were cut off but still . . . buttons! He even showered. Mandy looked at him weird for it, but he just told her to fuck off. Mickey had never been at school on a fucking Saturday before that’s for damn sure. He hadn’t been up before noon on a Saturday since the ancient times either. The things people do for love. But not love cause it totally wasn’t love. Totally.

“The turn out here fuckin’ sucks. Don’t anyone care about their kids anymore?”

Mandy shrugged. “From what I hear the class ain’t that big. Not too many kids actually wanna do something with their fuckin’ lives. This is probably a full house.”

“Jesus.”

They watched the kids come in with their fuckin rifles and flags and shit and Ian was in the middle of the line. His shirt was crisp and clean, his shoes practically sparkled they were so clean, and his hair was neat. He looked . . . kinda hot. Dangerous even. And then he saw those fucking freckles and that lopsided grin and Mickey knew he was just a puppy dog. A hot puppy dog. _His_ hot puppy dog. Jesus when did he get so gay?

Mickey and Mandy sat in the bleachers waiting as they had to go through all the people before Ian. Ian refused to look into the crowd, not wanting the disappointment of no one being there to put a damper on his mood. He was actually fucking happy for once and his family wasn’t gonna ruin that. No one was. His name was called snapping him out of his thoughts as he stepped forward.

“Cadet Gallagher, promoted to Cadet Lieutenant Colonel.”

As his officer was pinning his new pins to his shirt there was an uproar in the bleachers. Two dark-haired jackasses stood up and started hollering their asses off. Ian turned to see Mickey and Mandy were holding a sign that said go private Gallagher. He wouldn’t be a private until next year but that didn’t stop him from grinning his ass off. Mickey came. He was there, cheering Ian on when even Fiona couldn’t make it. His heart stuttered spastically in his chest. He wanted to fucking hug that obnoxious piece of shit. He wanted to squeeze him and kiss him and maybe go down on him for a couple hours. More than anything he just wanted to fucking thank him.

After the ceremony, his bundle o’ Milkoviches were standing there waiting for him. Mickey wouldn’t look him in the eye which told him everything he needed to know. Mandy hugged him fiercely reminding him she was still his best friend. One of them. He squeezed her right back smiling into her hair. Mandy sure was something.

“The fuck are you guys doing here?”

“Someone had to be here to cheer your ass on. It was Mick’s idea do the sign. My artistic ability.”

Mickey shrugged. “I drew the dick.”

“You always did know how to charm a crowd.” Ian smirked.

“You talkin’ to me now?”

“You done being an ass?”

“For now.  I suppose.”

“Then I suppose I forgive you. For now of course.”

They smiled at each other, eyes never really meeting yet never actually leaving the other’s. It was pathetic.

“Well I say we celebrate with over salted McDonalds fries and your choice of anything of the dollar menu.” Mandy smiled.

“Lucky me. I just uh I gotta change out of this first. Mick I left your uh… sweater in my locker. You wanna come get it?”

“Oh. Y—Yea. I mean it’s about fucking time Gallagher. Always borrowing my shit.”

“We’ll be back.”

Mandy watched them walk away shoulders bumping and eyes meeting before shyly looking way over and over and over again. She wondered who the two raging homosexuals thought they were fooling. It was almost funny that her brother thought climbing into her bed at two in the morning to talk about Ian Gallagher being mad at him could point to anything but gayness. They were practically shooting rainbows out through their eyes with the intense eye-fucking they were doing. She bunkered down to wait while her best friend and brother totally got off in the fucking bathroom or something. What adorable little gays.

Meanwhile in the bathroom on the opposite side of the school Ian and Mickey were taking up the handicap stall and fucking Ian wouldn’t just let him jerk him off so they could go eat. No, Ian wanted to talk about fucking feelings and shit.

“You came.” He mumbled shooting those ridiculous puppy eyes at Mickey.

He scratched at the back of his neck. “Yea.”

“I thought you said it was stupid. I think your exact words were ‘pussy shit’.”

“S’not stupid to you. Didn’t wanna . . . never mind fuck it.”

Ian stepped forward fingers tracing Mickey’s hips as he pressed him against the wall.

“No say it. Please?”

Mickey took a deep breath to center him before looking into green eyes.

“Didn’t want you to think I don’t care. Cause I do. I just want you to stick around too alright? But if you wanna become some army dude shooting shit up and sitting in the desert sweating your balls off then that’s what you should do. And you can’t let anyone convince you different. You’re good Gallagher. You deserve to be good. I—fuck I don’t wanna be another person in your life telling you what you should or shouldn’t do. I wanna be the person you do all your stupid shit with. I want us to question which one of us is stupider like constantly. Or whatever.”

Mickey didn’t talk much. And when Ian tried to get him to open up is was usually like a floodgate. He would have trouble organizing his thoughts so he would just say everything and anything hoping that somehow it would make sense. And the amazing thing about Ian was, somehow it always did. No one understood Mickey like Ian. No one else even tried. And he liked that about him. He more than liked it; he just didn’t know what word to use in place of that. But he did knew what word Ian wanted him to use and surely he wasn’t ready for that shit.

Ian latched on to Mickey hugging him gruffly and not letting go. Mickey’s eyes slid close as the warmth of Gallagher’s touch rushed over him. That touch was the best feeling in the world. And he never wanted to fucking let go.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me Mick.” He whispered.

“Sounds like a shitty life.”

“No. No it’s not shitty. You’re good too. You’re the best person I’ve ever met in my whole life.”

“Yea, okay.”

Ian pulled back from the hug cupping Mickey’s quickly warming cheeks and looking into the brilliant blue depths of his eyes.

“You are goddammit. And I’m gonna make you see that one day. I’m gonna fix whatever bullshit they instilled in you to think you’re worthless.”

“Fuck you always gotta be so heavy at ten in the morning?”

“You mean a lot me asshole.” He muttered punching him in the arm.

“Ouch, fuck stop hitting me. Domestic violence is never the answer Lieutenant.”

Ian rolled his eyes otherwise slipping his fingers under Mickey’s shirt to touch the skin at the small of his back.

“What’s the answer then Mick?”

He had that stupid grin on his face and Mickey couldn’t not look into his eyes if he tried. And he did try. Ian was touching him and the feeling set off sparks along his spine. He was getting gayer by the day, and worst of all Ian was making it hard to hate it. How could he hate anything that gave him this? Ian? God he . . . something’d Ian. Not love though. It wasn’t love.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me, asshole.”

And he did. He kissed him and held him and gripped his body in all the right places. His tongue did incredible things and Mickey was irresistible to pull him close. It’s when things are hot and there’s not enough oxygen going to Mickey’s head that he lets shit slip. When that uniform is so hot that he needs it off and he has to tell Ian how good he feels against him. His lips moving over Ian’s throat licking and biting when he knows he can’t mark Ian with Mandy outside.

“I’m sorry,” He gasped sucking on Ian’s collarbone where it’s safe. “that I hurt you. Don’t want to. Ever.”

And something about honesty and the yearn to protect was hot. And so they got off sucking on each other’s skin in the places no one would ever see. Ian was happy and Mickey was happy and their shitty lives in a shitty town just didn’t feel so shitty anymore.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh i love this story. Do you love this story? Cause i LOVE this story. A big element of this chapter is feeling weak. Whether it's Ian and Frank, or Ian and JROTC, or Mickey and basically every instance of his life that's not protecting Ian. Both of them struggle immensely to feel strong and powerful while also dealing with a relationship where they kind of need to be vulnerable and let their guard down with each other. Mickey has to learn that Ian gets to become his own person, whatever that means for him, and Ian has learn that he's not the ugly duckling that nobody gives a shit about. He is loved. He is cared for. And more than anything he is way fucking stronger than he's willing to give himself credit for. Also they're super fucking cute. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are ALWAYS appreciated. i love reading about how you guys feel. It gives me life on another level.
> 
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	7. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is fifteen. Mickey is seventeen. It's a year of firsts for the two. Some good others not. Ian runs into trouble and Mickey admits his feelings in a really big and very gay way. In a town where bad things happen to good people, and being who you are isn't always accepted they stand together, and love each other harder all the way through.

Ian is fifteen when he starts thinking about sex. Okay that’s not completely true, but it’s the first he starts thinking about acting on it. Mickey’s mouth is . . . incredible, and his hands absolutely lethal, but he wants more. Ian always wanted more. The problem was… well he didn’t know if he wanted something up his ass. Being fifteen brought many new and confusing thoughts to the mind of a teenage boy, and he wasn’t sure how to deal with them. He knew that due to the stereotypes inflicted upon him by the world Ian was sure that Mickey “FUCK U-UP” Milkovich did not want take it. He also didn’t know if he even wanted to put it in him. What if he was broken and he couldn’t even be gay right? Then again he did have the bigger dick and stereotypes seemed to point to big dick equal top. WHAT IF HIS DICK WAS TOO BIG AND MICKEY DIDN’T LIKE IT?! The confusions on this topic were endless and he made the mistake of going to Lip about it. Most of his mistakes included asking Lip for advice.

“How do I know if I wanna . . . get on top of a situation?”

Lip snorted. “Dude I’m not telling you where to put your dick. You got a boyfriend for that.”

Ian sighed collapsing in a chair and whining.

“I can’t ask Mickey if he likes to take it up the ass. Do you know how hard he hits? It fucking hurts I will not put myself in that position Phillip.”

“Alright, alright calm down. Why don’t you just . . . see for yourself?”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “What you want me to go finger myself in the bathroom?”

Gagging noises ensued.

“Jesus fuck Ian. You’re asking a straight man about the logistics of gay sex and I’m the crazy one here? Fucking go ask Mickey. Get him drunk or high and just ask. All this finger in the ass shit is making me nauseous.”

Ian rolled his eyes but otherwise left Lip to it. And for some reason he still followed the advice. Not his brightest moment.

“Your house free tonight?” Ian asked as they bumped shoulders on the way home.

Mickey nodded. “Dad’s off somewhere trying to sell some of his guns, what the buyers don’t know is these particular guns are of the plastic variety. If he’s lucky they don’t find that out until after he’s got the cash. Took his pick of the litter to help. Everyone else is fucking off for the weekend.”

“You didn’t wanna go?”

Mickey smiled over at him. “Nah. Told him I had some weed money to collect in school. Milkovich education at its finest. I think he was actually proud.”

“We’re gonna talk about school tomorrow and why you’re never in it accept to for illegal activity and to walk me home.”

He rolled his eyes chastisement. “What are we doing tonight then?”

“Shitty weed, shittier beer, and a lot of dry humping hopefully.”

And there it was. That smile of Mickey’s that blinded Ian on every rare occasion that it came out. It was Ian’s smile, reserved solely for him and him only. He fucking loved it.

“Yea okay. I got a more pizza bagels I’ve been hidin’ from Mandy.”

“I got the beer. Meet you over there in twenty?”

“Alley goodbye make out first?”

Ian was already yanking him there.

They met back at Mickey’s house, Ian having to drop off actual school things, and Mickey had taken the time to take a shower. He didn’t shower often whether because the water was often times shut off at his house, or because he thought it added to the grungy affect he was going for. He was still the same height, much to his frustration and Ian’s adoration, and his hair was often times sticky with dirt and grease. Ian couldn’t have cared less. He wore dirty t-shirts and too big jeans and Ian didn’t find him any less attractive. He loved Mickey as he came, as a dirty piece of Southside spawn, and he’d never ask him to change. Maybe that’s why Mickey was willing to do some of the changing himself.

 Ian immediately wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck pulling him close and breathing him in.

“You didn’t have to shower. I like you as you are.” He murmured kissing Mickey’s forehead.

Mickey’s cheek instantly burned. “Maybe I just wanted to you ever think about that?”

“Okay sure.”

He didn’t even say it condescendingly when they both knew Mickey showered for Ian’s ass. He was so fucking in like with him. He tugged Ian towards his room where the pizza bagels and weed were already set up. It almost felt like a date. A ghetto, Southside date, but a good fucking date in Ian’s book. They happily sat on Mickey’s bed eating stale bread with pizza sauce and cheese, knocking back beers and smiling at each other.

Ian’s hair was floppy and messy and covered his forehead a little bit. His freckles were also starting to dissipate much to Mickey’s devastation. There used to be a day where they all ran together in mass colonies of brown on the pale skin of his boyfriend. Now they were more of a splattering. He had wonderful green eyes that sometimes had brown in them and a very slight hue of blue if you looked hard enough, which Mickey definitely did. And that dopy grin of his was always in place driving Mickey crazy. He was boyish and hot and so deeply imbedded under Mickey’s skin that it made him fucking tingle. In an intimidating way, of course.

Gallagher was insistent on finishing the six pack as fast as possible before starting directly on the weed. He seemed nervous and antsy but Mickey was already too buzzed to mention it, knowing he’d get to whatever was bothering him. They weren’t even two blunts in before Ian was pushing him down to have his way with him. He was quick yet hesitant further proving that there was something fucking wrong with this jackass, but Mickey just let him keep going. They were kissing, tongues going everywhere and anywhere. Ian tugged at Mickey’s shirt fingers dipping into the skin at the small of his back and running experimentally into the waistband of Mickey’s eliciting a moan from his throat. Ian thought maybe it would be easier than he’d been thinking. Maybe Mickey wanted it.

One hand cupped at Mickey’s jaw the other grabbing mercilessly at his ass. They began that gentle rocking of their hips and it felt good, God did it feel good. So Ian just kind of let his fingers wander. First he was holding Mickey’s ass and then he was spreading him finger dragging dryly over the hole and pressing pressing pressing until. . . Mickey lurched away jumping off the bed like he’d been electrocuted.

“What the fuck Gallagher?!”

Even through the fog of shitty beer and weed, Mickey could not be sodomized without being aware of it. Ian looked up eyes widening, terrified that he’d really fucked up, which clearly he had.

“Sorry!”

“Sorry? You stick a finger in my ass and all you can say is sorry?!” Mickey blushed.

Ian returned that blush, cheeks a bright crimson. “Mick we’re—we’re gay. I mean I just didn’t know if you wanted to like bottom or not. Cause I don’t think I wanna bottom. And Lip said I should—”

“Woah you talked to your brother about us fucking? The fuck’s the matter with you?”

“You don’t like to talk about anything what was I supposed to do?”

Mickey’s eyed widened in disbelief. “It’s my ass Gallagher. Just cause I don’t wanna talk about our feelings and shit doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know when you’re sticking things in my ass especially without lube you idiot!”

 “Lube. Huh…. I should’ve thought of that.” He mumbled to himself.

Mickey scoffed and started pacing around the room. They probably looked like a parent trying to scold their child. He couldn’t stop moving and Ian was just sitting on the bed looking down at his hands like he’d been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. Only this time the cookie jar was Mickey’s asshole and the hand was . . . well Ian’s dick. You get the metaphor.

Ian thought Mickey was gonna break up with him. He was sure of it. Most people who refrain from sticking things up their ass and then get things up their ass are not okay with it. He was terrified, just like he always got terrified when things with Mickey got rocky. He couldn’t imagine going a day without hanging out with Mickey. That was his best friend. That was his rock in their shitty neighborhood. He didn’t know what he would do without him.

Mickey on the other hand was trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without embarrassing himself. Then he remembered that Ian had just tried to shove his finger up his ass, and that no one could be more embarrassed them him in this situation. He huffed a breath and headed straight for his closet and dug all the way through to the back where his fuckhead brothers would never look. It was a box with clothes piled on top and a world of secrets underneath. He found what he wanted before pulling it out to show Ian.

“What the fuck are those?”

Mickey smirked a little letting the string dangle between his fingertips.

“There ben-wa balls. You put ‘em in my ass and you pull ‘em out real slow.”

“You—You mean?”

Mickey shrugged. “I’m only a little older but that means I had some time to think about things before you. Gotta tell you the thought of letting that thing go anywhere near my ass is terrifying. I figured I should probably prepare myself.”

The smile on Ian’s face was truly the most mesmerizing, obnoxious thing Mickey had ever seen. Like who gets that excited to find out their boyfriend is a bottom? Dumbass. Adorable dumbass.

“Wait so . . .”

“Jesus Gallagher I like to take it up the ass. Least I think I do. I like… things up my ass. Don’t see why yours would be any different.”

Ian smiled wide. “Jeez Mick. How many of those things can you take?”

“I’m up to three by myself. Tried four once and blacked out for like fifteen minutes.”

Ian laughed at that, which had them both laughing their asses off. They sat next to each other on the bed shoulders touching and giggling. Then at some point giggling turned to kissing, and kissing turned to hugging and touching. Ian pulled Mickey on top of him as they picked up where they’d left off. Ian didn’t think it was possible for someone to get his blood pumping like Mickey did. He loved to touch him. Skin rubbing against skin. He’d grab at Mickey’s jaw and run down his neck, over his collarbone, down his abs and to his hips. And Mickey liked to grab his hair. His grip would get tighter the hornier he got, and sometimes he wouldn’t even realize it when he’d pull at Ian’s hair but it would always drive him up a wall. They moaned into each other’s mouths shedding clothes left and right and pressing their groins together to get some relief.

“Fuck.” Ian muttered grabbing at Mickey’s ass.

Mickey bucked his hips up grabbing Ian’s face to nibble at his bottom lip. It felt so good. He pinned Ian’s arms to his shitty childhood bed licking and biting at the flesh beneath him. Gallagher was way too fucking hot. And Mickey liked… making him feel good. He liked to see a mark on his body that he made, liked to listen to Ian moan because it meant he was good at it. He could make Ian feel the way Ian made him feel. He could please him.

“I want you.” Ian demanded softly in Mickey’s ear.

It brought a smile to his lips. No one had ever wanted him before. But Ian always did. He didn’t know how to tell him that when he was with him he almost felt worthy of that wanting. That the moments he shared with Ian were the best of his like, because he felt free. He felt happy.

“You got a rubber?”

Ian nodded already reaching for the jeans he’d thrown on Mickey’s floor.

“Do I—what do I do?” He mumbled caressing Mickey’s hips.

Mickey smirked pulling away. He went back to the box again before throwing something at Ian and clambering back onto the bed. Lube. Very important part of gay sex. Noted.

“You don’t gotta do anything tonight. I’m uh all good to go. I like the stretch.” He grinned.

“Oh okay. So how do you wanna do—ya know it?”

Mickey bit his lip looking Ian up and down shyly.

“I don’t know. How do you wanna do it?”

“I wanna do it how you wanna do it.”

They were young and stupid. Emphasis on the stupid.

“You know you talk too much?” Mickey murmured straddling Ian. “Way, way too much.”

Their lips touched smooth and sweet. Skin on skin till their heart beats radiated in sync. Ian could taste the left over traces of beer on his tongue, the tried drips of water at the base of his spine. He could feel him and he wanted more, always more. They were awkward of course, but the nerves that Ian felt before melted away. It felt right; it felt like everything they were supposed to be doing in that moment. He was so sure of his movements in a way he never thought he could be. He thought maybe touching Mickey was exactly what he was supposed to do.

His hands were firm on Mickey’s hips, eyes taking in the ass he’d been staring at for the past four years straight. And he didn’t need to ask how to move or where to put anything. He just moved. And then he was inside of him and Mickey made a sound he’d never made before. It was hunger, it was surprise, it was passion. For the next four minutes of Ian Gallagher’s life he fucked his boyfriend with reckless abandonment. In should’ve been jerky and clumsy, weird even, but it wasn’t. It was hard and rough and amazing. His hips were like pistons jutting forward over and over again listening to shrill squeak of Mickey’s bed as they moved. It’s like his whole body was on fire, but he never felt pain just heat, thrilling heat coursing through his veins and over his skin.

“Jesus Ian.” Mickey panted.

And it was the sound of his name, hot and breathy on his boyfriend’s lips that just sent a shock through his whole system causing it to reboot. He was _there_.

“Uh Mickey!”

He crashed into Mickey’s back hips locking as he spilled into the condom. His breath came out in short, stuttering spurts on Mickey’s neck as he experienced the most amazing orgasm of his entire life. His heart stopped and then picked back up again in overtime. He’d been fucking missing out. His head was a beautiful sky of clouds and electric pulses shooting out through his veins. It was like drugs or something. And for the first time his understanding of Frank’s addiction was even smaller than ever. Why do drugs when you can fuck?

“You wanna get the fuck off of me any time soon or are you watching the fucking playback in your head?”

Ian sighed pulling himself slowly off of Mickey only for more moans to stumble pass his lips. Without thinking, or asking for that matter, he flipped Mickey so they were facing each other missionary style. He kissed his way down his boyfriend’s stomach. His cock was red and leaking and kind of beautiful and he couldn’t help but put it in his mouth. Mickey’s fingers knotted into his hair cries pouring into the stale air of his bedroom. He brought him so close to that edge, making it feel so good it hurt. His hips bucked up forcing him deeper into Ian’s mouth. Then he felt Ian’s tongue and he relaxed his throat letting Mickey slide deeper and deeper and it just it just—Wow.

“Holy shit!”

They collapsed next to each other staring up at the ceiling wondering who was up there letting wonderful shit like that happen to people. Ian kind of wanted to chuckle, but he had a feeling Mickey would hit him for him. So he leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder instead, and they just lay there basking in the beauty of the moment.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

“Where’s Ian and Mickey dinner is almost done?” Fiona sighed setting Liam into his chair.

Lip closed his text book moving it off the kitchen table before heading upstairs to grab everyone for dinner. Debbie and Carl rushed passed him without even having to ask. Mickey and Ian on the other hand were nowhere to be found. They were supposed to be in the boy’s room studying, something about getting Mickey through freshman year or some shit. Yet their backpacks and books were on the floor . . . so what the fuck were they studying?

The bathroom door slammed open then, two dumbasses pouring out trying to button their jeans and hide their sweaty grins. Fucking idiots.

“Oh god in our bathroom? Our sacred place? You two are sick you know that?”

“We were just talking.” Ian insisted.

Lip scoffed. “His neck has enough hickeys for polka dots.”

“Fuck off Phillip.” Mickey grunted pulling Ian by the wrist. “Let’s go eat.”

“I’m coming give me a second.” He smiled softly.

The moment was so sweet and sickening Lip had to look away.

“I take it my advice was good?”

Ian snorted. “Your advice fucking sucked. I scared the shit out of him and then he showed me these things call ben-wa beads. You put in your—”

“Alright, yea okay I’m good on that one.”

“But it—it’s the most amazing thing ever. I mean I’ve been wasting my life giving him blowjobs when I should’ve been fucking him. Who would’ve though thought it got any better?!” He grinned.

“I’m happy for you I really am. Can we go eat now while I still have some semblance of an appetite?”

“Yea my _boyfriend’s_ waiting for me anyway.”

Lip rolled his eyes but followed anyway.

Dinner was full of watching Ian and Mickey stare at each other. Fiona thought it was cute. Lip thought it was disgusting. Carl was oblivious and Debbie was just smiling at them. They were oblivious. They were holding hands in Mickey’s lap whispering at each other. Mickey would tell Ian to fuck off and then Ian would smile at him like he’d just told him he loved him which maybe he did. Very little eating actually happened.

Mickey was feeling not so hungry for food and very hungry for something else. He knew he was getting way too comfortable in the Gallagher house but it was hard to not feel comfortable with Ian. It was hard not to feel like they were the only ones in the world when Ian was the only one he saw.

“I think I got some more studying left in me.”

Ian grinned at him and they were off towards the stairs with some bullshit excuse about homework.

Lip turned to Fiona. “They’re gonna fuck in my room aren’t they?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Debbie answered for him.

Oh god.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

The Kash N’ Grab fell into Ian’s lap at the perfect time. Fiona needed more money for the squirrel fund and without the SATS on a heavy flow; Lip was back to getting paid for midterm papers and algebra. He became the second steady pay of the family and it made him feel good, made him feel like he was contributing and helping. It also helped to have somewhere quiet to sit. He was so used to the chaos of the Gallagher home that he forgot what it felt like to sit in silence. He could get all of his homework done and spend his shift flipping through magazines or something. Then Mickey would be there to walk home with at night and often times they’d end up at the dugouts or behind an alley making each other gasp in the most beautiful ways. Things were good. They were stable. And he was happy.

“Ian you think you can stay late tonight for inventory? I’ll pay you for the overtime of course.” Kash smiled.

Ian shrugged. “Didn’t we just do inventory last week?”

“Yea but Linda thinks people are stealing again. Wants us to check it again.”

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

It was coming on his and Mickey’s four year anniversary and he wanted to do something without cutting in to his contribution to the squirrel fund. He didn’t know if Mickey would care, or even remember when they started dating, but it was just the kind of person that he was. He loved Mickey. It was something he was sure of; he felt it so deep in his bones that there was no denying it. He wanted to do something nice, make him happy. They were the closest thing to a normal couple Ian had ever seen in his life. He thought they were good for each other, and he just wanted to show Mickey how much he cared no matter how uncomfortable it made him. He was sappy as fuck like that and he couldn’t give a fuck less.

“Hey do you think I can cut out early next Friday? I uh have a date thing, wanna do something special.” He winced.

Kash frowned at him as if the information made him sad.

“Oh. Is it the Milkovich kid?”

Ian froze blood draining from his body as if he’d sprung a leak.

“N—No. No I’m not. . . We’re not…”

“Hey you’re safe here Ian.” He murmured voice soft and smooth. “No one’s gonna judge you.”

His hand was suddenly on Ian’s shoulder making little circles on the skin. Circles that with Mickey would’ve felt warm and comforting, but for some reason felt odd. A part of his body was telling him that it wasn’t right, that Kash shouldn’t touch him that way.

“Can we—can we just do inventory now?” Ian asked softly slipping from under the touch.

“Of course.”

And he smiled as if to make Ian feel comfortable but it only served to have the opposite effect. Mickey showed up shortly after to wait as they finished and Ian had never been so grateful for his presence. He knew he wouldn’t tell him though. Cause it was Mickey and well . . . it was Mickey.

“Took your ass long enough.” He muttered pushing off the wall with a can of pringles in his hand.

Ian rolled his eyes. “I take it you didn’t fucking pay for those, in which case you are single handedly the reason I keep having to stay late to do inventory jackass. People notice when you steal from them.”

“Man it’s Southside. They’re fucking lucky they’re making a profit. Didn’t even have barbeque flavor, towel head bastards.”

“As much as I love it when you talk racist to me you wanna cool it with the slurs so I don’t get fired?”

“Jesus so sensitive. You know in the army you’d have to actually kill towel heads right? Alright damn,” he mumbled at Ian’s glare. “anything for you pumpkin.”

“I can deal with pumpkin.” He grinned sliding his hand into Mickey’s.

Mickey pulled away. “Hey not here, save it for your house.”

Ian tried to ignore the sting that Mickey’s rejection always brought. He understood it of course, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. It always hurt to not be able to touch him or hug him or just be close because someone might see. It made him feel caged in, hiding away like some animal when all he wanted was to be free.

“So uh next week is four years.” He said to rid himself of the pain.

“Four years of what?”

Even though he thought he’d prepared himself for Mickey not to remember it still seemed to hurt. Jesus he felt like a pussy sometimes.

“Of um you and me.” He mumbled not meeting Mickey’s gaze. “It’s okay that you don’t remember. I mean I barely did either till I looked at the calendar. It’s not even a big deal. Not important ya know?”

Ian rambled when he got nervous, when he got upset. Well really Ian just rambled. And Mickey always knew what he was feeling in those moments; he just had a way of telling that he couldn’t really explain. Ian was hurt. He knew that, and he knew it was his fault. Most of the time he felt like a shitty boyfriend anyway, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why Gallagher had even stuck around that long, but there was couple of things he did know. He knew that he cared about Ian. And he knew that if he fucked up, he’d try his hardest to fix it. It was all he had.

He tossed his cigarette fingers encircling Ian’s wrist as he towed him into the darkness of an alley. Checking to make sure they were alone he pulled his boyfriend close and thumbed at his chin only for Ian to keep his eyes focused on his tattoos.

“You wanna do somethin’?”

Ian shrugged. “Whatever. We don’t have to. It’s cool.”

Mickey found that whenever someone said “it’s cool”, it meant that things weren’t fucking cool. He sighed leaning into to kiss Ian square on the mouth before taking it deeper kissing until they were out of breath and his lips looked red and swollen. He had him pressed into the brick wall of the alley next to a fucking dumpster and it wasn’t romantic at all, but it was them. He was there. And he hoped that Ian realized he always would be.

“Ian. What do you wanna do?” He tried again.

Ian sighed in defeat. “I don’t know. I just I worked more shifts for some extra cash. I thought we could . . . I was gonna get you something. That’s what couples do right?”

“How the fuck should I know? I ain’t never been with anyone but you.”

Ian fisted his fingers onto Mickey’s jacket still not really looking him in the eyes.

“I wanna do something Mick. I wanna feel like I’m not hiding with you. Even at my house we have to lock the bathroom door or kick my brothers out our room. I wanna feel like I’m in an actual relationship for once. I don’t wanna feel like your dirty secret okay?”

“Hey you’re not a dirty secret alright? You know why we can’t hold hands in public; you know where we fucking live Ian. I’m not ashamed of you I want to keep you safe.”

“I know I just . . . I just want one night of not having to question every move. I wanna be with you.”

It was small and squeaky and just barely made it past his lips, but he said it. And at least he knew he’d spoken the fucking truth.

Mickey sighed nodding softly and biting at his lip. “Alright. We’ll do . . . something. I’ll figure it out.”

“Really?”

“Yea really.”

Ian smiled wide throwing his arms around Mickey’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. Though his lips were like fucking heaven Mickey’s mind was already into overdrive of things he needed to accomplish. He needed money and fast. He needed to find a place where he could be out with Ian and not have his dad, or anyone from the neighborhood, find out about it. He also had to ask Mandy how the fuck he was supposed to shop for his stupid boyfriend. The things you do when you more than like someone Jesus.

“You dickheads you still got that coke I told you to hide?” Mickey asked his brothers later that night.

“Yea man didn’t even try a little. You’re welcome by the way.”

“Yea sure. Get it out; I need some serious cash for the next few days and I need it quick.”

The good thing about Milkovich brothers was when you need something they were there for you . . . some of the time. That’s about it for good things. But they helped him move the coke and settle for keeping a little of it for themselves instead of taking the money. He was left with about five hundred bucks and zero ideas on what the fuck you’re supposed to do for a two year anniversary. They’d never been on a fucking date before. He didn’t even own a dress shirt. He kind of started to lose it a little bit.

“What are you doing jackhole?” Mandy asked watching him destroy his closet.

“Ugh you’re kind of a girl right?”

“If my vagina is anything to go by.” She snorted.

“What the fuck are you supposed to do for like . . . when you’ve been with someone and they wanna do something to like celebrate the time you’ve been together or some shit?”

“You mean an anniversary?”

“What the fuck ever. I got five hundred dollars. No fucking shirt with the sleeves still on it, and h—they’re gonna kick my ass if I fuck this up.”

A smile actually managed to find its way onto her face. She uncrossed her arms and headed over to her brother making a mental note to tell him she only helped him because he was dating her best friend.

“Alright let’s find you something that won’t make you look like a criminal.”

She helped him plan everything from the shirt to what the hell they were gonna do with their night. When he told her it had to be away from the town so no one would see she didn’t even question it. She knew. And maybe deep, deep down he knew too, but they didn’t talk about it. Milkovichs didn’t need to talk. He thought all of it was stupid, but he couldn’t deny that part of him that wanted to be alone with Ian. He was just as tired of hiding, of pretending he was something that he wasn’t, still he understood keeping them safe. He wasn’t mushy or gooey or really romantic at all, and never had been. All he had was the person he was with Ian. The person he would be all the time if all the outside forces weren’t there keeping him in line. He hoped that was enough.

The week passed slowly, and he could tell that Ian wasn’t expecting him to pull anything off by the sunken look on his face. He was absolutely terrified of letting him down, and yet a part of him couldn’t help but remain excited. He was hoping maybe Mandy actually had an act for this kind of thing and it wouldn’t turn out to be a complete and total waste of time.

Ian was working another shift that night and the plan was to wait in the shadows until he was done and drag him off to everything he had planned. But when he got there he saw something. Something that made his blood boil and hand turn to claws at his side. It was Kash. Kash caging Ian in like an animal. Touching him. Breathing on him. Gripping him.

That was the first time Mickey truly discovered the piece of himself that was like his father. It was a blind rage, so wild and hateful that it completely consumed him burning deeply within his soul. He lost the ability to rationalize, to control himself. It was all instinct, and his instinct was to hurt, to stop someone from taking the only good thing to ever happen to him. He had to protect Ian. He had to protect what was his.

He pushed through the door hands already curled into fists and snatched the man off his boyfriend. Slamming Kash’s face into the edge of the cashier’s counter, Mickey heard a satisfying crunch. And then there was blood, but he kept going. He bashed Kash’s face against the counter over and over listening to the painful sobs that poured through his mouth. It wasn’t till blood was dripping onto the floor that he let him drop and went for the ribs like he was playing soccer.

“You like touching underage boys huh?” he sneered kicking with a grunt. “Wife won’t touch your pathetic cock so you think Gallagher’s gonna do it?”

“N—no! No you don’t understand.”

His voice was wet as he no doubt choked on his own blood.

“I understand. I understand pieces of shit like you like to touch shit that ain’t yours. And Gallagher’s? He ain’t fucking yours.”

Mickey headed to fridge grabbing a beer bottle and slammed it against the counter where Kash’s blood dripped.

Pressing the glass to Kash’s throat Mickey grinned evilly. “If you ever touch him again I’ma gonna let you deep throat this fucking bottle. Maybe me and my brother’s will round up the neighborhood and let ‘em know the Kash N’ Grab’s housing a fucking pedophile. You want that?”

“No! NO please!”

“Ian’s shift is fucking up. And he’ll be taking a couple days off, with pay of course. You might even wanna think about giving him a raise you sick, twisted fuck! Let’s go.”

He dropped the makeshift weapon and blasted through the door barely gesturing the bell and the way his skin was vibrating. His hands shook, knuckles locking up rigidly. He found it difficult to breathe for a minute. He was so angry, so fucking mad it made him sick to him stomach as bile rose up his throat. There was a sadness to it too. If Ian couldn’t be safe, if he couldn’t protect him than what fucking use was he?

When Ian stumbled out of the store a little shaky himself Mickey was still trying to get himself together, but the sight of Ian was enough to spring him into action.

He took Ian’s face in his hands ignoring the tremble in his fingers as he pressed their foreheads together.

“Ay you alright? Tell me you’re fucking alright.” He begged thickly.

Ian slid his hands around Mickey’s wrists struggling to keep them both grounded.

“I’m alright. You saved me.”

“Did he touch you?”

Ian hesitated but tried to quickly cover it with a jerky nod. Mickey was so attuned to him in that moment he noticed every breath, every twitch.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” He hissed.

Ian shook his head fingers tightening around his boyfriend’s wrists.

“No, no stop Mick. H—He gave me funny looks sometimes and he was too nice, and maybe there were lingering touches, but nothing serious. Nothing before tonight.”

Mickey took a deep breath only feeling in control when Ian was touching him. They were out in public. It was dark and there wasn’t anyone around but the possibility was still there and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t not touch Ian. He needed him.

“Alright . . . Fuck now everything’s fucked.” He sighed.

“Hey, what is it? What’s fucked?”

“Nothing. Just come on ok?”

He looked around curiously before planting a kiss on Ian’s forehead and towing him away from the terrible memories.

They ended up at the baseball field and Mickey had held Ian’s hand the entire time. Of course he’d avoided all of the main roads and made sure they stuck to the shadows. Ian was still a little shaken up and couldn’t let go of Mickey to save his life. When they made it to the dugout, and he saw everything that had been planned for him it took a minute for it to register what was going on. For a second it was just a blanket spread out in the middle of the field with a six pack and a present that was wrapped with newspaper and a basket with Ian’s favorite snacks spilling out of it. Then they got to the field and he realized what it was, what Mickey had done for him.

“Mick…” He mumbled in awe.

“I told you we’d fuckin’ do something didn’t I? Come ‘ere.”

He towed Ian to the blanket avoiding those green eyes that were chasing his as if to ask if it was all real. It was so unlike him, so weird to do something nice and to try. He didn’t wanna let Ian down, if anything he wanted to make him happier than he’d ever been in his whole life after the night he’d had. It was cheesy, he knew that much, but Mandy said girls didn’t mind cheesiness when it came from the heart, and Mickey knew that the same was true for his boyfriend. Jesus. His _boyfriend._

“What is all this?”

Mickey shrugged. “For puttin’ up with me for four years?”  

Ian found a way to move closer on the blanket so that their foreheads were touching and he could feel his breath on his lip. Those eyes were so green, so warm and captivating. It was hard to be so close to him like that; all he ever wanted was to get closer.

“I don’t put up with you. I love you.” He whispered.

Mickey’s chest tightened at the words. He still wasn’t used to them. He still didn’t understand how Ian could say them so freely. And he still cherished the fucking hell out of all three of them. He wanted to say them back, wanted Ian to feel the everlasting weightlessness that they brought. But it was hard for him.

“I . . . I got you somethin’.” He sighed reaching for it. “Mandy helped with all of the planning. I’m not good at this shit. I just wanted you to be happy. Used my coke money.”

Ian could barely let go of Mickey’s hand long enough to open it. It was a good watch. Old looking, and an all gold face with a black leather wrist strap. It was perfect for Ian. He loved it instantly. His fingers ran tentatively along the face biting hard at his bottom lip. His last gift had been from Fiona and Lip who had taken him to Sizzlers for his tenth birthday. They’d dined and dashed, and now the south side thug who’d just beaten the shit out of a grown man for him was giving him a watch that he’d spent actual money on instead of stealing. He’d never felt so gay and warm and fuzzy in his entire life.

Mickey watched a smile grow wide and tenacious on Ian’s face and he released a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He liked it. He really fucking liked it.

Ian kissed him sweetly, arms worming around Mickey’s neck as they collapsed back on the cotton covered grass. His lips always tasted way too fucking good to be normal, and after the Kash incident he couldn’t keep his hands off of him. Ian loved him even more for it. For taking away Kash’s touch and replacing it with his own. His fingers were in his hair pushing the strands back and rubbing at his scalp tenderly. It counteracted lovely with the rough tug of his teeth on Ian’s lip.

Mickey seemed to comfort him with his hands. He reached for Ian’s hip thumb soothing him to the bone as their tongues met. He touched him everywhere. The dip of his back. His jaw. His cheeks and the back of his neck. Then he tugged at Ian’s jacket and did his shoulders and arms too. The heat was heady, pressing down on them in a thick fog. Ian felt safe and protected and loved. It made his heart feel so heavy it throbbed in the pit of his chest. He loved him so fully, so uncontainable.

“I don’t know what the fuck four years has gotten you to make you wanna stay with me.” Mickey mumbled against his lips. “But . . . I don’t want you to go. Ever. So don’t leave me. I—I need you. Ian I love you.”

He swore he deflated against Mickey at that point. His body had just melted into a puddle of swooning soup and it was all too much. He said it. He said it and he meant it and it felt so fucking good.

“Only took you four years.” Ian smiled fingers tracing Mickey’s jaw. “It was worth the wait.”

“We get any gayer we’ll be working at Chippendales.”

“Lucky for you I’m not going anywhere. We got plenty of time to try and control our gayness, wouldn’t want the straights to get uncomfortable.”

“Oh no, can’t have that.”

Ian chuckled leaning down to reach around inside his pocket which incidentally lined up pretty well with Mickey’s crotch.

“Jeez Gallagher, handsy much?” He grinned.

Ian rolled his eyes. “You sure know how to ruin a moment. I didn’t get a chance to wrap it before I was almost sexually assaulted but here you go.”

“Very funny.”

They rolled over so that they were lying side by side facing each other as Mickey stared down at his present. It was a switch blade, which he had to admit really fucking fit him. It was like one of the old school ones too, not the flimsy ass metal everything was made of today. The grip was a deep black with his initials etched in, in pure silver. It was one of those things he didn’t realize he’d wanted until he had it, and then he couldn’t imagine every living without it.

“It’s not that great. I just thought … it’s tough and jet black, a little scary. Thought it might help you scare the neighborhood kids even more.”

Mickey grinned. “It’s great. I like it. Come here.”

His fingers lingered at Ian’s chin pulling him so they could kiss again. Four years. Four years of stressful shit happening back to back. Ian hadn’t known what would come of his best friend getting him high after school, but goddamn was he proud of the results. He and Mickey were good. They were firm and solid, in love and so fucking happy. He deserved that. Happiness. And Mickey deserved it even more. As they sat there on the baseball field fingers and legs intertwined he knew there was no place he’d rather. And no person he’d rather be with.

“Are we gonna do the sex thing anytime soon?”

“Jesus Gallagher you’re such a fucking dork!” Mickey exclaimed cracking up.

 “Of course we’re doing the sex thing.”

* ten minutes later*

“Oh fuck I can’t feel my legs.” Mickey mumbled into the fence.

“Almost there. Oh god Mickey you feel so good.”

He shoved his hips rough and firm forcing Mickey deeper into the fence. Mickey liked it hard and Ian liked to reduce his boyfriend to a human jellyfish. It worked out well for the both of them.

“Fuck fuck fuck uh uh—holy SHIT!”

His fingers turned to a fist gripping Mickey’s hair roughly and pulling him against him as he came. The high was intense and if the teeth marks on Mickey’s shoulders and back were anything to go by Ian might be working himself towards a bit of a kink.

“I think I wanna fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”  He sighed collapsing on the bench.

Mickey was flexing his legs out in front of him attempting to regain his composure. There was a bit of trembling in his legs after they finished sometimes. They didn’t talk about it though cause Mickey Milkovich was a man and men don’t tremble after dicks are in their asses. Fact.

“If that’s your way of proposing I gotta say it needs some work.” He muttered around a cigarette.

“You’ll marry me and I’ll fuck you and you’ll like. Is that better?”

“You’re stupid.” He chuckled. “I love you.”

“Yea, me too.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mandy decides she can’t contain herself anymore after the anniversary. First her brother comes home covered in enough hickeys for an entire rager. His hair is all kinds of fucked up. The shirt she picked out isn’t even buttoned correctly. Not to mention he’s smiling so fucking hard it looks like it hurts. Her suspicions even confirmed he bottomed the fuck out of Ian when he noticeably winced trying to sit down for breakfast. And yet she was supposed to believe her brother was bangin’ chicks? HA.

And then as if to make matters worse Ian was back over at their house less than a minute before her dad left for the alibi. Apparently she wasn’t supposed to notice that Ian had a new watch on that looked a little expensive, coke money expensive. Or Mickey’s new switchblade. Or how hard they eye fucked each other directly in front of her. The sexual tension was genuinely stifling . . . and nauseating. She just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright I’m in a giving mood so I’m gonna disappear for about an hour. That oughta give you guys enough time to bang one out and coo over your love together cause this is fucking disgusting.”

She got off the couch leaving her two favorite dumbasses with their mouths agape. As if she didn’t know they were together? She was slutty, not stupid. Fucking boys.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was really important to me that Ian and Mickey be kind of shy with each other before their first time. also i went back and forth between Ian actually being a stallion in the sack and them just thinking they were good because they had nothing else to compare it to, but i left it up in the air so you do with that what you will. Also kash is fucking weird. I'm all for whatever you want as long as everyone is concenting, but that shit is not okay, and i think it's important that Ianb eign with Mickey means he's finally found a healthy form of love. Frank and Monica? No. Lip and his girls? Absolutely not. Fiona and Chad? HA. No. But with Mickey this early in his life i think realistically Ian would've known better. So that is why Kash got his ass kicked straight Milkovich style. Also this idea of Mickey protecting Ian will continue to dominate the plot of the story. You'll see. 
> 
> COMMENTS AND KUDOS....please?
> 
> SEND ME PROMPTS.....please?
> 
> www.zankivich.tumblr.com


	8. Thanksgiving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is sixteen. Mickey is seventeen. Life for Ian is crumbling and Mickey is the one thing that seems to remain intact. Monica is back and her history of negatively impacting her children hits and all time high when Ian brings his boyfriend to Thanksgiving. He struggles with his connection, or lack thereof, with his family, and he struggles with wanting to feel powerful and in control. Will it be West Point that gives him that satisfaction or will Ian have to forge his own path? And when Mickey gives him a sense of happiness will it all come crashing down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my first fic ever Give Me Love hit 19k hits i decided to post this a little early. Also just wanted to say thank you truly for all the sweet comments and just reading the stuff i post. Genuinely every reads means a lot to me because that's something I'm creating and for you to enjoy it just makes it so much better. 
> 
> Also i just particpated in Shameless big bang for the first time so if you want to read that it is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4441961
> 
> ENJOY!

Ian is sixteen when home falls apart again. Fiona and Lip and fucking JimmySteve now? All of a sudden Lip is gonna drop out and take care of a fucking baby. JimmySteve has a wife. Mandy and Lip are fucking, were fucking? Monica came back again. And then when she was there she was super-duper happy for a while before losing her ability to leave the bed. Ian couldn’t deal with his mom anymore or the constant guessing game of when she was gonna disappear again, so when she showed up Ian disappeared. And by disappeared, of course, he ended up at Mickey’s house, in Mickey’s bed where the rest of the world couldn’t reach him.

It was in the middle of night that he’d shown up puffy eyed and in need of a fucking hug and Mickey had given him just that. Terry was in prison again and things felt almost easy when they were at Mickey’s. Things always seemed to fall to shit for one of them at a time never flowing perfectly in sync for both of them.  They lay on Mickey’s bed, a chair shoved under the door just in case, despite the fact that Mandy already knew about them, with their heads resting against each other as Ian explained what was wrong with her.

“She doesn’t take her meds. It’s so fucking annoying. She refuses to think of anyone but herself. We can’t get her out of bed. She won’t move, she won’t talk, and they’re still trying. We’re Gallaghers and we see the good in our own even when it isn’t fucking there. She’s shit on us every chance she’s ever gotten and I just can’t . . . I can’t try and fix her anymore. She’s never gonna be the mom I wanted. What’s the fucking point?” He muttered. “You know she’s the only one who knows how I feel about you? She asks me all the time about you. How are we doing, are we happy, am I being treated well? She asks and she pretends like she cares but she . . . doesn’t. She can’t.”

He looked down wetly ignoring how audible his swallow was.

“You ever seen her like that before?”

Ian chuckled sadly. “On my first day of kindergarten she had promised to make a huge breakfast. The night before she’d taken me to get a brand new backpack instead of Fiona’s hand me downs. I was so . . . so excited. She promised to make banana pancakes, my favorite. But when I woke up the next day she was just lying there staring at the wall. Fiona had to miss her first class to take me and I’d already cried so the rest of the kids made fun of me for being a pussy. Wasn’t fun. That was the year before you moved in.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Mickey sat up leaning over Ian to reach under his bed for his stash.

“Mandy got some good shit from some Northside prick. I was saving it. You want?”

Ian nodded softly rubbing his hands over his face. Mickey didn’t always offer much in advice. But he always listened to the shit going on in Ian’s head. He’d wait patiently as Ian tried to organize everything verbally. And sometimes that’s all he needed. Was just someone to fucking listen and at least act like they cared. The amazing thing about Mickey? He actually did.

“Come here.” Ian mumbled, dazed and reaching for Mickey’s belt loops.

He smiled, satisfied only when his boyfriend was straddling him, Fuck U-Up sprawled out on his chest. Mickey looked down at him with soft, playful eyes and just like that he forgot about everything.

“You wanna fuck me to get away from your problems?”

Ian nodded. “Yes. Yes I would like that very much.”

“Yea okay. Just sit back and I’ll do all the work for a change.”

That was the first time Mickey rode him. He pulled Ian’s jeans down to his ankles, tugged at his own and sunk down till he was seated firmly on Ian’s cock. And then quite frankly he rocked Ian’s world. They were usually pretty good at being quiet, a required characteristic of being gay on the Southside of Chicago. Maybe it was just because Ian was distracted. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that Mickey rode dick like it was nobody’s business. The bed squeaked and clambered roughly against the wall and Ian couldn’t keep his voice down to save his fucking life.

“Oh my god Mickey!”

Mickey grunted clenching around him.

“Shhhhh you’ll wake my fucking sister.”

“That’s great just—just keep riding me please.”

Ian’s hands met Mickey’s hips and then he was planting his feet and thrusting upwards and suddenly he wasn’t the only one having trouble keeping it quiet. The rocking of the bed got louder and louder as they continued to paint each other’s skin with labored breathing and sweat. Ian’s fingers were burning Mickey’s hips in all the right ways and he just couldn’t seem to get himself down far enough. There was a thirst inside of him that he knew they could quench if they just got the position correct. He kept rutting, kept pushing himself down to meet Ian’s thrusts adjusting his hips to change the angle. It felt amazing. Then it felt better.

“Oh fuck!” Mickey hissed keeling over on top of Ian. “D—Don’t stop.”

There was a pounding on the side of the wall where Mickey’s room met Mandy’s but all his ambition had gone out the window. Sorry sis.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” She screamed.

They came within seconds of each other letting out choked sobs into other’s mouths. Mickey could barely roll over off the sticky spot of his release all over Ian’s abs.

“Thanks for that.” Ian chuckled breathlessly.

“Anytime.” Mickey smirked.

Ian had a feeling he’d take him up on that.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“For the last fucking time Gallagher I ain’t goin’!” Mickey yelled.

Ian huffed in frustration continuing to follow his boyfriend into the kitchen where Mandy was cooking lunch.

“Mickey it’s no different than any other night this one just happens to have a fucking title. You’re being ridiculous!”

“What’s the problem in homosexual lover’s land now? Could it be you fucking at all hours of the night keeping me from getting my beauty sleep?”

Mickey snorted. “Bitch please all the sleep in the world ain’t gonna make you no beauty.”

She flipped him off with a sneer, and Ian just threw his hands ups.

“Your brother won’t come over for Thanksgiving. He’ll eat over at my house every single fucking day of the week but god forbid there’s a fucking turkey on the table huh Mick?”

“Fuck off it ain’t gonna happen.”

Ian groaned switching up his approach and going to grab at Mickey’s waist instead. He pressed him solidly against the counter lips trailing up his neck as his hands found his ass.

“Five years. You’ve given me five years Mick. This is one dinner. I can’t sit through the Monica and Frank show without you. I need you.”

Mandy, a romantic at heart but also a bitch, only got one valuable piece of that information.

“Five years?! You telling me you two have been fucking for five years straight?!”

“Can you shut the fuck up please?!” Mickey hissed.

“Jesus how do you put up with that for five years?”

Mickey kicked at her as she moved past them, but the pale ginger wrapped around him was making things difficult. He’d hit a growth spurt a couple months ago and it didn’t look like he was gonna be done any time soon. And with JROTC running miles every day and doing push-ups and pull-ups was starting to turn his innocent puppy into fucking pit-bull. It was the only the beginning.

“Mick, please?” Ian whined nuzzling himself deeper into Mickey’s arms.

Still a fucking puppy at heart though.

He groaned. “I’m not bringin no fuckin’ cranberry sauce though.”

“I love you! Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He grinned kissing Mickey’s face all over.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yea, yea you can make it up to me later.”

“Thanksgiving isn’t till tomorrow I can start makin it up to you now.”

He tugged at Mickey’s belt loops with a devilish grin boldly grabbing his ass on the way. Mandy gagged over her grilled cheese.

“Ah just cause I’m okay with your gayness doesn’t mean I wanna watch you screw each other all over the place. Take that shit to Mickey’s room!”

They did.

The next day Ian took his Milkovichs to Thanksgiving. The Gallagher house was full and buzzing, Kev and Vee leading the parade and it seemed like maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Ian, Mickey and Mandy stayed together. Fiona was happy and JimmySteve showed up with a turkey so they didn’t have to eat spam or eagle. Everything was . . . good. And after about an hour of being there he finally started to relax. Mickey was next to him, drinking beer and holding his hand were he thought no one could see. All of his siblings were smiling and happy and he didn’t have it in him to give a fuck about Monica anymore.

“Well aren’t you two cute. I almost didn’t recognize you Mickey without all the dirt.” Vee smirked.

He promptly removed his hand from Ian’s to flip her off before intertwining their fingers again. Ian only beamed at him harder and Fiona and Vee stood off to the side drinking their beers and staring at them intently.

“They fuckin’ yet?”

Fiona sighed. “Yea. Terry’s in jail and Ian hasn’t been home for more than fifteen minutes to get clothes for the past week, the little shit. I’d be madder if they didn’t look so happy together, and if I didn’t know that Mickey’s probably the best thing to ever happen to him.”

“Mickey Milkovich? The dirty white boy who I once watched scratch under his armpits, sniff and then eat out of the chips you bought?”

“Look at ‘em Vee,”She smiled. “when’s the last time you saw Ian smile at me like that? Or laugh because of something Lip said? We haven’t made him happy like that in a long time, and even then Mickey was always there to help. He’s been there since Ian was five, and I don’t know how he would’ve made it without him.”

At that moment Mickey was trying to beat Ian away so that he couldn’t kiss him. Ian couldn’t help but laugh and try harder making kissy faces at the thug. Fiona was watching them with an almost sad smile on her face. She loved to feel needed. And with Lip just barely not escaping teen parenting and Ian with Mickey, it was easy to feel like her two baby brothers didn’t need her anymore. It was rough.

“He’s growin’ up that’s for damn sure. Boy looks about ready to model for GQ.” Her best friend joked. “He still loves you though Fi, you’ve done everything for them. He still needs you too.”

Fiona sighed. “I hope so.”

They all sat down to eat that night thinking that things would be simple for once. The normal chatter of the Gallaghers settled into a pleasant hum around all of them. They were drinking and eating and smiling. Ian was watching his boyfriend fight with his brother and he couldn’t have been happier. The biggest issue at dinner in that moment was whether Carl or Mickey got the last roll and that was the most amazing thing he could’ve asked for. No one was really at each other’s throats; no one was punching someone in the face. It was his family in all of its entirety, with his added Milkovichs right beside him, and he thought that for the first time he might actually get to have something normal, something good.

Monica had disappeared at some point, though Ian hadn’t paid her any attention the entire meal. All they heard was the thick thud of the something hitting the linoleum. Jimmy-Steve went to check first, the rest trailing suddenly behind so that they could gasp at what was in front of them. Debbie and Carl were frozen, with no movement but the tears streaming heavily down their cheeks. Ian somehow ended up in Fiona’s arms and they were both shaking. For a second he was just a toddler with a scraped knee, or maybe the time he broke his arm, and Fiona would just hold him the scent of her favorite strawberry shampoo seeping deep into his nose. He’d feel safe and happy. But this moment was tainted with horror.

The blood was everywhere. A deep, thick crimson forming pools on the linoleum. Her wrists were split wide and you could see how deep the gaping hole was. It was like a ravine filling and filling until the sticky syrup spilled over. He remembered thinking how dark the blood was, much different than the electric red of movies. Her body was drooping, sadness potent in her eyes, and then there was the blood just as murky and depressing as her. Jimmy and Kev took control covering her wrists and calling the police because the rest of the family was just . . . frozen.

Mickey watched on, helpless at what the fuck he was supposed to do. Good boyfriends were probably assertive. A good boyfriend would’ve held Ian and fed him some bullshit about how it would all be okay. He did none of that. When the Gallaghers left for the hospital he simply followed behind sharing a look with Mandy that asked exactly the same question. What the fuck were they supposed to do?

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

*six hours later*

“Hey let’s go upstairs.” Mickey whispered in his ear.

Ian was standing at the mouth of the kitchen watching Fiona on her knees. She was scrubbing relentlessly at the blood on the floor tears streaming heavily down her face. He knew what she was seeing. That the blood wouldn’t go away, that it had permanently stained the floor. Frank, Debbie, and Carl had stayed. Lip had fucked off with Mandy. It was just Ian, Mickey, Jimmy, and Fiona. That was his sister on her hands and knees fixing another fucked up pieces of their lives so they could have a semi-normal life. For fuck sakes he just needed to thank her.

He shook his head softly at Mickey and took a shaky step forward, falling to his knees next to his sister. She looked up at him, eyes big and wide and scared. No one ever fixed it for Fiona. No one was ever there to make it all better for her. He couldn’t help but think that that wasn’t fair.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter than he ever had in his whole life. It was necessary, like breathing, he clutched at her out of desperation and for a while they just held each other rocking back and forth and **remembering.** Because that scene wasn’t something they could ever forget.

“I’m sorry sweetface.” She whispered into his neck. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s not your fault. None of this has ever been your fault Fi. It’s not your responsibility to apologize for other people’s fuck ups.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. But I’d rather you know someone out there is fucking sorry than think the world is just shitting on you for nothing.”

“I love you. I don’t say that enough. I love you so much.”

He couldn’t see but the tears now streamed heavy down her face.

She smiled. “I love you too.”

He pulled away and took the rag from Fiona’s hands and started cleaning the blood with renewed vigor. The soap water ran red, the white towel just as infected as he cleaned. Eventually Fiona was beside him picking up the knife and the bloody towels. Then Mickey started bringing plates into the kitchen. Jimmy wrapped up the leftovers and set them in the fridge. They managed to make the house look clean, as if there hadn’t been a suicide attempt in the middle of thanksgiving. They did it together.

Fiona flipped the light switch off and sent Mickey and Ian upstairs for the night. She was heading back to the hospital to stay with the kids. Ian was just happy he could take a piece of the burden off her back.

That night it was Mickey’s turn to strip Ian down. He set the water as hot as it would go, and despite the pathetic water pressure they managed to get a good stream. Ian’s hands were shaking, the water having turned his fingers the same red tint. His eyes were still thick with a layer of tears threatening to fall at all times. He looked so tired, and fragile.

Mickey’s held him under the water fingers dragging up his spine and into his red strands. The shaking seemed to spread up his arms radiating from his chest throughout his entire body in wild vibrations. He cried into Mickey’s neck silently. There hadn’t been anytime for them to talk since the incident but shit did he need him. That warmth that only his arms could supply. The assurance that maybe his hands would stop shaking. His world was reduced down to Mickey, and as long as he just fucking held him he would be okay.

They lie in bed after the hot water ran out, naked except for towels under the sheets. Ian’s arms were behind his head and Mickey was counting his freckles with his lips. The pale skin was soft beneath his mouth and he couldn’t stop if he tried. His fingers were gentle, contrasting wonderful with the obscene language. Ian felt lucky, because only he got see Mickey like this. Only he knew the wonders those fingers were capable of. He counted Ian’s freckles with nothing but the moon light streaming in through the window and casting the blind shaped shadows across their bodies.

He was so beautiful. So soft and warm and _his._ He never felt such a need to love him before. Mickey wanted to love him hard and recklessly to rid his mind of any woes that might plague that wonderful head of his. He just wanted to make it better. He had to make it better.

“Mick?”  Ian breathed as Mickey made his way to his neck.

“Yea?”

“I need you to promise me something.”

“Okay?”

He swallowed profusely. “Just don’t let me turn out like her alright? Promise me I’ll never be like that.”

He knew how erratic it sounded, but he needed it so badly. Mickey would’ve promised him anything in that moment, just as long as the sadness would go away.

“You won’t. I won’t fucking let you. We’re not our parents you hear me? We’re not.”

Ian nodded softly pushing himself into Mickey’s arms exhausted from the day. His head was on Mickey’s chest where the gentle strum of his heart could lull Ian to sleep.

“I love you.”

Mickey sighed running his fingers along Ian’s spine.

“Yea, I love you too.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

West Point was a goal. It was something he could focus on and work towards. When Mickey got himself thrown in juvie again Ian had to focus on himself. He couldn’t focus on Monica. Mandy was always off with Lip, and he knew that it would be pathetic to crawl into a hole and wait for his boyfriend to come back to him. He started running every day, twice a day no matter the weather. Sometimes he’d get bored just sitting at home and he’d run a third time with Liam strapped into a stroller Jimmy bought them before disappearing. He could run a mile in six minutes flat. So sometimes he ran five. He had the energy to do so, so he thought why not? It was good. He’d go to school, get all of his homework done during work with Kash not being a creep anymore, and then go for a run before he went home. During the weekends, when his need for Mickey would grow so strong he ached for him, he’d go visit him. On foot. He’d run the whole way till he was drenched in sweat. And then Mickey would stare at him through the glass like he was something to eat licking his lips appreciatively. It made him feel powerful, wonderful even.

“Fuck Gallagher you know the L stops like a block from here right?” Mickey snorted.

“I know. I got a feeling you wouldn’t look at me like that if I took the L every time.”

His cheeks burned and he quickly looked away clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“You ain’t gotta do that shit for me.”

“I’m not. I just have a lot of energy these days.” He explained, lowering his voice. “My boyfriend’s been a little too preoccupied to keep me busy.”

“Oh so this is my fault?”

Ian shrugged, mind already moving on. “I’ve been thinking lately.”

“Cause that always works out so well for us.”

Ian quickly flipped him off, a trait that became more frequent the longer he stayed with Mickey.

“Seriously Mick. I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time for me to find a new job.”

“Oh thank god I’ve been saying that since you started working there.”

“Yea I . . . I told Fiona that. I told her I wasn’t happy at my job and she told me I could quit but she had that look on her face. I could see her mentally calculating rent and electric and how much was in the squirrel fund. It was like she was saying yes while shaking her head no.  But I got a plan. When Monica was . . . Up she took me to this club. They say I'm the bread and butter of that place. I could make enough for the electric in tips alone just bar-tending. Isn't that great Mick?"

"Bar-tending? Ian you're sixteen who the fuck is gonna let you bartend?"

Ian shrugged. "The fairy tale."

Mickeys eyes widened his fingers clenching into a fist around the phone.

His voice got lower, dangerous. "The fairytale in Boystown? You think you're gonna sit in a club all night letting more faggots on the verge of death cop a feel? Kash wasn't enough for you huh?"

 

"I knew you were gonna act like this about it." Ian muttered.

"Damn right I am!" Mickey exploded struggling to contain himself and keep his voice low. "You got any idea who I am or did you forget while you surrounded by grey pubes all night?"

"I wanna be happy Mickey. And this will help. This will help Fiona not be so stressed about making rent, and maybe Debbie can focus on being a kid instead of breaking out in fucking hives from babysitting. It's not my fault you're in here. It's not my fault you constantly feel like you got something to prove to Terry and your brothers. I gotta do what's right for me and if you can't support that then . . . Then fuck you."

He got up then stalking away and leaving Mickey in stunned silence. His fingers were shaking the way they did when he was about to get into a really good fight. Only now he had no enemy. No one in front of him anyway. His boyfriend was off working in a pit of dicks and there was nothing he could do about it. As if being stuck in juvie wasn't a big enough shot at his ego.

Mickey wasn't stupid. He saw the differences between him and Ian. Where he was short and harsh, Ian was tall and sweet. He had a heart of fucking gold and abs that were borderline lickable.  He could have anyone he wanted. And with Mickey in juvie with nothing but free time on his hands the mental pictures he got almost always centered around Ian bending someone over that wasn’t him.  Mickey wasn't delusional enough to pretend their relationship made sense the older they got. Every growth spurt of Ian's was a decline at Mickey’s self-esteem. Not because he wanted to look like him, but because maybe he knew all along that his days of happiness were numbered. One day Ian would look in the mirror and ask himself the very same question Mickey asked himself every day. What was he doing with Mickey? And then it would all come tumbling down.

The guard led him back to rec room where all the other boys were doing nothing with their lives. There was a particular person he was looking for. The kind of guy everyone went looking for eventually, when they could no longer hold out.  You could see it in his face. That sweetness that resided in someone like Ian, that vulnerability that couldn't exist in juvie. It was the prime trait of a bitch. And that's all Mickey needed.

"Hey man come on." He sniffed grabbing the guy by the wrist.

They headed to the only spot in the joint without cameras or guards, a spot between the laundry room and a wall where everyone else went. Mickey didn't cry as he bent him over, but he knew he'd never felt so sad in his entire life. People do fucked up things when they think they got nothing to lose.

 

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Ian was sitting at the table fuming. His foot wouldn't stay still, thumping rhythmically and he couldn't get a grip on his emotions. He was feeling a million things all at once. Anger. Disappointment. Failure. Sadness. Anxiety. Rage. And it all just kept boiling and stewing with him until Lip walked through the door and it all came to the head.

"Hey you talk to the admissions guy yet?" Lip asked.

 Ian nodded tossing the manila folder at him from across the table.

"Yea he stopped by today. He was really excited about your application to West Point. He thinks you're a shoe in."

"What the fuck?" He mumbled peering down at the application. "Ian I didn't do this I swear."

"Fuck you! This was it. This was my fucking ticket out this bullshit town. It's the only goddamn thing I'm good at and you still ruined it. You still get everything handed to you on a silver fucking platter even though you don't give a shit about anything but the latest whore you're fucking!"

Lip shoved at Ian roughly, who'd managed to get in his face with every word that came past his lips.   

"Get mad at me because the country that thinks you're one of god’s mistakes doesn't want you for their fucking army that makes sense."

Ian decked him then sending Lip sprawling out on the floor just as Fiona walked in the door.

"Hey! Hey enough what the fuck is going on here!"

But Ian wasn't hearing it. He snatched the wad of bills out of his pocket for the electric and plopped it on the table.

"It's cold. You'll need this." He mumbled on his way upstairs.

He wasn't thinking. His emotions were all wobbly stacking on top of each other and threatening to topple over onto Ian like his own personal avalanche. He had no place to go, not a person to stay with, or anyone who would know where he was. In that moment though he didn't care. He felt unappreciated more than ever. In a world where Mickey would've been right across the road to kiss those thoughts right out of his head he was now a part of them. It hurt. It hurt so bad he just couldn't be there that night.

He stayed at the club that night, his boss not minding when he caught the customers staring at his new employee. His dinner that night was apple martinis and some body building bar that a dancer gave him. He wanted to talk to Mickey. He could see them just staying on the phone together all night and Mickey would convince him to go home, Mickey would fix everything because that's what Mickey did. But he couldn't. Cause he was in juvie and Ian wasn't and there was no fixing that.

He didn't fuck anyone. People would let him crash on couches and sometimes things got weird and every now and again he had to use his ROTC skills to get out of sticky jams. Sometimes he had nowhere to go, so he stayed at the club. That's how Mickey found him. He was the only one who knew where he worked now, and maybe he was the only one that cared enough to look.

 

Ian was bartending again flirting with customers as usual. Scott, his manager, was talking about him being a dancer. He assured Ian that the tips he was getting were nothing compared to what the dancers made. Mickey strolled in while one of the customers was stroking at Ian's hand trying to convince him to go to the private rooms. Bartenders didn't usually go to the private rooms, but Ian had lost track how many times he’d been asked. The guy was about to lean in closer when a tattoo hand shot out and seized his wrist twisting in backwards in a way it definitely wasn't supposed to.

"Touch him again and you're gonna lose a fucking arm you hear me?!" Mickey snarled.

He dragged the guy out of his seat and shoved him in the opposite direction. Relief flooded Ian's system as he took in Mickey before him. His blue eyes were more enticing than ever and Ian hated how easily he got caught up in them. His shoulders were firm and broad leading to arms that swelled out wonderfully. It turned out Ian wasn’t the only one growing up while Mickey was away, and damn did he hate that. He hated that despite his obvious anger at Mickey his entire being was telling him to go to him. The security guard for the bar gave Ian a look ready to snatch Mickey up at any second. Ian shook his head.

"It's fine. He's a friend."

Mickey snorted. "Friend? That what you call someone who lets you give it to 'em up the ass and deals with all your bullshit since we were kids?"

Ian rolled his eyes keeping them on the drinks before him.

"My boyfriend's supposed to be in juvie not supporting anything I wanna do with my life."

"You're the most over dramatic person I've ever fuckin met." Mickey mumbled taking a seat at the bar. "I came to bring you home. Not like anyone in your piece of shit family was gonna do it.”

"They don't know I'm here."

"Figured. What'd you do to Lip's face?"

He sighed uncapping a beer and setting it in front of Mickey.

"West Point decided they wanted a Gallagher after all . . .  They just didn't want me. Lip Gallagher is the only one who’s ever gonna make it out. I've been working at this how long? That was all I had Mick."

Mickey bit hard at his tongue to stop himself from reminding Ian he had him.

“We’ll figure something out. You gotta go home though Ian.”

He quickly shook his head. “No. No I can’t go home.”

“Then at least come over to my place. Dad’s out of town with my brothers, Mandy’s with your asshole brother. Just come on.”

Ian stared at him for a second teeth sinking into his lip. The thought of being alone with Mickey after so long without him was addicting. It was important to him that Mickey showed up. Every time he got out of juvie Ian seemed to be his first priority. They’d been together long enough that they just knew when the other needed them. And he did. He needed Mickey more than ever. He needed to feel grounded and whole. Mickey represented that for him.

 He’d been so busy going going going he hadn’t taken any time to deal with what had happened the past couple of weeks. And he was a little afraid what would happen when he did deal.

“I gotta finish my shift.” He mumbled, sure that Mickey just didn’t want him at the club.

“Good I’ll wait.”

And he did. He stayed the whole time drinking free beer and talking to Ian when he could. He didn’t judge him or make fun of his uniform. None of the other customers got too close after Mickey’s latest escapade. He just made drinks and took the tips that some of the regulars gave him. When he clocked out he reached tentatively out for Mickey’s hand gripping needy and desperate. Mickey froze already pulling his hand out of the way when Ian looked at his challengingly peering around the room.

They were bright lights basking half naked men in their glow as they ground themselves against other men. It was literally a room full of people like him to a certain extent. It was the one place in Chicago where it didn’t matter who he loved, or that he held his hand. It’d been so long since he’d touched him, since the warmth of Ian’s skin had taken over all of his senses. He couldn’t take it anymore.

They walked to Mickey’s house hand in hand. Whether that was because of the atmosphere of the club still clinging to their skin or the notion that Terry wasn’t there to see anything, Ian didn’t know, but he refused to take any of it for granted. The house was theirs and Mickey was his and there was no way he wasn’t going to take advantage.

“Come here.” Ian whined stubbornly as he pulled Mickey on top of him.

Mickey chuckled. “You’re awfully aggressive for someone who’s supposed to be mad at me.”

“I’ll get to that, let me just work up to it.”

His lips were at Mickey’s jaw pressing slow open mouth kisses to the skin. He traced his boyfriend’s shoulders loving the muscles that were there now and wanted to see more. Mickey had grown. He was strong and hard, no longer the scrawny kid Ian had fallen for. There were curves and dips that hadn’t been there before and Ian couldn’t keep his eyes off of him. He wanted to memorize this new Mickey, wanted to appreciate the body of the man he loved the way he fucking deserved. If only Mickey saw it that way.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled nervously twitching under Ian’s gaze.

“Staring at my boyfriend’s body, that a problem?”

His lips moved to Mickey’s chest pressing a kiss to the line that separated each peck before capturing a nipple between his teeth.

Mickey moaned. “J—Just get on with it huh?”

Ian shook his head stubbornly. “It’s been so long since I’ve touched you. You’ve changed. Let me get familiar down here.”

His fingers were tracing Mickey’s sides the softness of his belly wonderful to Ian. There were abs there and a tightness as his core but it was still soft, still Mickey.

Mickey didn’t like it. He felt insecure and nervous under Ian’s pestering gaze in a way he never had before. All the reps he’d done in juvie seemed worthless when they were face to face. He still didn’t measure up to what Ian deserved. And at barely eighteen years old he wasn’t able to distinguish between his feelings for his body and Ian’s. His feelings became Ian’s until his touches no longer filled him with anything but sadness.

Mickey’s fingers reached out to stop Ian’s as he was making his way down his abs. Ian stared at him in confusion not realizing the gravity of the situation but somehow still managing to say all the right things.

“What are you doing stop that.” He demanded softly, working his way between Mickey’s legs. “You’re beautiful. Sexy as all fuck really.”

His lips were on Mickey’s before he could make any more objections pulling him in closer and closer until they were melting into each other.

Mickey reached desperately between his bed tossing the lube at Ian and looking into the box with a truly depressed look on his face.

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“’M out of fucking rubbers.” Mickey groaned collapsing on the sheets.

Ian bit his lip looking around. “Maybe Mandy has some. Or your brothers.”

“No one in this house is packin’ fuckin’ magnum sizes and Mandy’s with Lip who I’m almost positive has a tiny dick.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.” Ian sighed in frustration. “Fuck.”

Mickey was all but positive that no fucking was going down that night. Ian on the other hand was staring at the tent in his boxers and knew that not having sex wasn’t a fucking option. He decided to say fuck it.

“Come over turn over. We’ll do it without one.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m clean. You’re clean. We’ve only ever been with each other right?”

Mickey stared up at him for a second before nodding softly.

“Yea, okay.”

“Okay.” Ian smiled leaning in to kiss him.

They sunk closer together stewing about in sweaty sheets. Digging at each other skins and feeling. Feeling and feeling as much as they could after having waited so long. They couldn’t get close enough if they tried and trust that they did. Together again. At last.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“Alright, I gotta get to work.”

“Wait give me a minute alright we ain’t done it on the couch yet.” Mickey mumbled pulling at Ian’s hips to stop him from getting dressed.

“You’re kind of sexy when you beg.” He smirked.

They kissed, again for what felt like the first time, but had to be the hundredth. Mickey pressed himself into Ian needing to be close, needing to be engulfed by him. He let himself be bent over the searing heat of Ian’s touch radiating deep in his back. And when he was in him he didn’t have to think. He could focus on nothing more but taking whatever Ian would give him. He’d been in his house all night and yet the only reason it felt like home was because Ian was there.

They moved together Ian thrusting forward and Mickey backwards. Ian’s hands were on his hips pressing in hard enough to bruise and there was no insecurity there. He felt taken care of. He felt like Ian was digging in and fixing all the pieces the world continued to break of him. They repaired each other fingers clutching skin and Ian reaching for Mickey’s hair. They were both content and serene. And then they weren’t.

“What the fuck!”

Mickey turned his entire body seizing up.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugggggggggggggggh. I'm having trouble because things are happening and i love my babies and i don't want them to happen but they kind of need to happen. Monica serves a purpose unfortunately and that'll come to light soon enough. Mickey remains the staple that keeps everything together, that keeps him moving. So i think that's why you see Ian start to make random decisions without him. You're seeing Ian struggle to find himself, and he thinks he's living for himself when that's really not to case. And when he's with Mickey things kind of fall together. He feels so connected, so in love with Mickey that he's willing to take this huge step in their relationship. Unprotected sex. We'll talk about that more later. 
> 
>  
> 
> HOPE YOU LIKED IT! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!  
> Send me prompts!  
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	9. Winners Never Cheat, Cheaters Never Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is sixteen still and Mickey is eighteen. Mickey tries to protect what's his in anyway that he can, even if it means hurting the very person he loves most. Ian battles with feeling inadequate and needing to be wanted, needing gratification no matter where or who it comes from. When infidelity is brought up it destroys him and sends him into a stand still of not knowing what to do. Mickey has must learn that keeping Ian safe means being with him all the time, and Ian must learn that sometimes when someone tells you to go away what they're really saying is don't go.

Mickey is eighteen when the whore walks in. Mickey is eighteen when she fucks him in front of his dad and his crying boyfriend. He’s eighteen when they’re beaten black and blue, when he watches the blood drip from Ian’s face. He’s eighteen, yet he’s never felt so old. He felt fed up, and tired, so fucking tired. Of being a punching bag. Of fighting for something that the whole world seemed to be against. His face and body were bruised but all of the pain was inside. She was on top of him riding him as he winced and choked on the bile rising up his throat. All the practice of keeping a full chub with straight porn on had come back to bite in him in his ass cause his father wouldn’t be satisfied until he came. The sick fuck seriously wouldn’t let him out of her until he came.

He was watching Ian and it felt like he was choking. He wanted it to stop. He wanted Ian to be safe and happy and just fucking okay. He wanted the whore to stop, wanted her tits to stop bouncing, and his dad to stop watching. And so he did the only thing he knew would stop it. He flipped her over turning away from the broken looks on Ian’s face and fucked through another loss of his virginity in the worse way possible. He closed his eyes tight snapping his hips forward and willing himself to make it through this. It was the hardest thing he ever had to do, but he knew it was only the beginning.

He stood under the shower for over an hour later that night, after Terry kicked the whore out and Ian shortly after at gunpoint, and realized that his skin wouldn’t come clean. He could see the filth on his flesh, a layer of scum consisting of abuse and rage and hurt. He’d never felt so dirty. The water burned at his skin before turning ice cold like the blood in his veins. It was there that Mickey let the tears run down. He was broken and mangled and terrified that it wasn’t repairable. Ian had put all his pieces back together over and over again. But what happened when the pieces were unrecognizable? What was he supposed to do when Terry had turned him into deformed lump?

And Ian fights. Because of course he fucking does. Gallagher’s an underdog through and through and never knows when to give up. It didn’t matter if the odds were stacked against him and he literally had no chance of winning, he fought on. And Mickey fucking hated him for it because it only made him hurt him even more.

“Mickey come on. What happened it was . . . it was fucking awful. And I’m sorry,” He swallowed heavily. “I’m so fucking sorry he did that to you. But I need you. And you need me.”

He stepped forward only to be met with Mickey’s hand blocking him from getting closer. He decides that he can’t let him get closer. Mickey’s life is toxic and dangerous, and it’s not a place for him let alone Ian. He decides to take Ian out of his world, because he believed that that was best.

“Stop treating this like more than what it is. We’re the only fags on this side of town. It was always about convenience.”

Ian’s face contorted into a grimace of hurt.

“Don’t—Don’t say that. You love me. Don’t pretend that you don’t. You love me and you’re gay and there’s nothing fucking wrong with that!”

“No, I don’t. You know how many bitches there are in juvie giving it up like it’s going out of season? You think my dick wasn’t taken care of every night? You’re nothing but a warm mouth to me.”

And he watches it take root twisting deep and twirling around Ian’s heart, basking it into darkness as the light goes out of Ian’s eyes. He almost stumbles forward touching that face that he loves so fucking much it hurts. But the damage is done. And there’s no repairing it just like there’s no repairing them.

The worst part was that he didn’t even get angry. He didn’t hit Mickey, didn’t shove or beat at him the way he so badly needed him too. He just left with those sad, broken eyes not giving Mickey the fight that he wanted, that he deserved. He was finally alone. No one was gonna be there to make it better, and that realization alone left him cold and hallow his heart having rolled off somewhere garbled into pieces. He had no Ian. He had nothing.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Lip is sitting on the couch when Ian stumbles in crying and carrying a bottle of jack. He hadn’t been home since he punched Lip in the face, but his current state changed all of that. It was his brother and he was out of his seat without a word. It was a long night of trying to get Ian’s tall ass up the stairs and situated. Then he had to literally fight him for the bottle only to have him curl up into his pillow and continue to cry until he passed out. He got no answers, no legitimate information out of him, although he was almost positive he heard him whimpering Mickey into the cotton of his pillow before he fell asleep. He figured it could wait until the morning. Or in Ian’s case the afternoon.

Ian stumbled down the stairs after Fiona had already left for work and the rest of the kids were gone. It was just the two brothers like it had been before, before Mickey walked into Ian’s life and tore everything to shit so slowly he had been sure he was making it better. Now there he sat in a chair questioning every second they’d ever spent together, feeling like shit. Feeling like the rug had just been tugged out from underneath him and he was falling, falling into oblivion.

“Here drink this.” Lip sighed pushing the steaming hot liquid towards him.

He found that his hands were shaking when he reached for the cup of coffee. They shook so bad that he opted to forget the coffee and sit on them instead.

“I need you to do something for me. And I need you to not ask any questions, and I need you to just—just promise me you won’t say anything to Fiona.” He begged voice shaking worse than his hands.

“Okay.”

“I gotta go to the clinic. And I don’t wanna go alone.” He mumbled pathetically.

And for the first time in probably his entire life Lip didn’t even ask a single question.

“Alright I’ll go get dressed. You should probably drink some of that before you go though. It’ll help with the headache.”

They dressed in silence Ian spending almost ten minutes in the bathroom willing the bags under his eyes to go away. He still looked like shit and he was pretty sure breathing hurt. Lip noticed that Ian specifically went out the back door just to avoid what he assumed was the Milkovich house next door. He wondered just what exactly had gone down the day before. He wanted to know if Mickey fucking touched him again, and if so he wanted to kick the little punk’s ass. His brother was battered and bruised all over, and they were going to the clinic for fuck knows what. What good could come from that awful fucking combination?

It was a slow morning, the usual teen pregnancies having to wait until school let out fortunately so the wait wasn’t long. Still Ian couldn’t seem to sit still. His legs bounced, fingers twitched spastically. It was uncomfortable to look at him. He had a split lip that continued to bleed because he kept biting at it. There was some dried up blood that flaked on his neck where he hadn’t quite got it I the bathroom that morning. Lip almost felt the need to hug his little brother that now towered over him. Suddenly he was five again running to Lip because he’d scraped his knee. Only now he worried that the worst wounds were the ones he couldn’t see, that those were the ones that lingered deep in his chest. He could fix a scrapped knee, but what could he do for something he couldn’t see.

“Ian Gallagher?” A nurse spoke interrupting each of their thoughts.

They each shot up out of their seats following the woman back to one of the sterile rooms with the speckled tiles and paper lined exam tables. Ian had always hated hospitals, or anything of the sort. He’d ended up once when he was six and he broke his arm falling out of a tree, but Mickey had been there and he was the first to sign his cast. He realized by the startling pain that radiated deep in his chest that thinking of former boyfriend—if that was ever what they were to begin with—wasn’t the best idea.

“How can I help you today Mr. Gallagher?” The doctor asked.

He kept his eyes as far away from Lip as possible. It was nearly impossible to get the words out just out of principle, let alone with his brother in the room to judge him.

“I—I think that I need to be checked. For like STDs and stuff.”

He could hear the sharp intake of breath from his right, and knew Lip would have something to say later.

“Have you had unprotected sex recently?”

He nodded softly. “My . . . ex. He’s been with other people while we were… I—I don’t know how many.”

“Okay,” She nodded reassuringly. “Well we’ll do a couple tests, see what’s going on.”

She had him piss in a cup. She took blood. She even took him into this separate room where she stared at his junk and pubes. She asked him about his ass a lot too. What he stuck in it. Did he let other people stick things in it and if so what kind? She asked him about his sexual partner history, which was so limited it sounded pitiful once he said it out loud. He used to think it was good, being exclusive and only having been with one person. But just knowing he’d been the only person to hold up his end of the bargain had him reconsidering.

“Well Ian we can pretty much count out genital warts, cytomegalovirus, Molluscum Contagiosum, and any others that are going to be visual on the body. I see nothing on you that indicates further testing but I’m gonna run your blood and urine to ensure that things like HIV and Aids haven’t been extracted. You said that your partner didn’t show any signs of STDs that you knew of correct?”

He was back in the room with Lip and he swore he would’ve kicked him out if it wasn’t so goddamn nerve wracking to be alone.

“No, never. We usually used condoms but he ran out and no one else in his house has magnums and it was late so…”

“Oh Jesus Christ.” Lip groaned causing Ian to turn red in his seat. He talked a lot when he was nervous.

“Sir, please I’m sure this situation is difficult enough without a disapproving partner.”

“Excuse me?! Fuck no. We’re brothers. We’re not that kind of family either. Jesus.” Lip grumbled again.

For the first time that day Ian cracked a little bit of a smile.

“Yes well anyways I don’t think you have anything to worry about but it will take about three weeks for the results to come in.”

And that was it. He didn’t know if he was supposed to be reassured by her words or if he should still be freaked out. All he knew was that he felt tired. He felt so tired of giving his all to people who gave shit in return. He was tired of loving fiercely and fully when it never fucking worked. What was the point? In any of it? Why live for other people when the only result was pain for himself?

“I gotta go to work.”

“Work? What about school?”

“Not right now.” Ian shrugged.

“Oh come on. So what west point isn’t a happening and now you’re just gonna quit high school? Ian you were gonna graduate early.”

“I’m good, Lip. I’m tired of living for everyone else. It’s my turn now.”

He headed back to the club and talked to his boss. That night he danced for the first time with a little liquid courage and the pill one of the dancers slipped onto his tongue. He felt amazing. He was on top of the world and nothing could bring him down. It didn’t feel weird with the drugs. And the lights were ghosting over his skin and all the men wanted him, they would reach out and try to touch and stare so longingly at him. It wasn’t even hard. He danced and let them look. It was good.

A security guard came over to him with an older man in tow. He was one of the regulars that always tipped Ian better than anyone else. He talked to him and was sweet to him all the time.

“Curtis, you got someone who wants a private dance. That okay?”

It was his first day so he got a choice, and it felt good. To have power. To feel like things were in his control. And for Ian, in that moment, there was nothing more important than having power.

“Twenty-five gets you a dance.”

It came out strong and confident, the way he’d rehearsed, and a spark of excitement coursed through him.

The man held up a hundred dollar bill with a smirk strong on his face. Ian nodded dropping down off his platform and practicing the moves he’d watched the dancers do night after night. Straddling him on the couch the control surged within him. The way he stared at his body, that look of wanting of needing to be closer. It wasn’t Mickey, and it would never be Mickey, but he hoped that maybe if enough people looked at him like that he just might make it through the night.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

The first couple weeks were rough. Or maybe they were months. Every minute felt like days anyway. He couldn't get Ian's face out his head. The water pooling in his eyes, the wince as Mickey's words slashed through him leaving him bleeding on his way out the door. He drank to get away from that look. He closed his eyes desperately screaming for that look to go away only for it to be brighter than ever. He’d never felt like such a piece of shit in his entire life.

He'd look out the window at the house that was as much a part of his childhood as the shitty one he sat in. He missed him so fucking much. It ate at him constantly. Being in his bed was hell because he constantly felt Ian’s presence rocking him to his core. He could still feel him touching him; he could still feel his lips at his neck, at the small of his back. But those touches were tainted. Because he had lied. He had said anything and everything that he could to get Ian to stay away, to protect him from Terry. He just didn’t want to put him through his shit anymore. The only problem was after being with Gallagher since he was seven, he’d lost his ability to deal with the shit on his own and he was barely treading with his head above water.

“Hey I was gonna go visit Lip, maybe order pizza. You wanna come?” Mandy murmured sitting at the end of his bed.

He kept facing the wall completely ignoring her and the clenching pain around his heart at the thought of going to the Gallagher house.

“Is Ian okay? Haven’t seen him around here in a while.”

Mandy had come home to Mickey bruised and bloody, but other than that she knew nothing. When her brother looked like the sound of his boyfriend’s name was literally killing him though, she knew something was up.

“Hey shitface, everything alright?” She tried again.

And still he said nothing.

Any other piece of shit would’ve left it alone, but Mandy was a stubborn bitch and proud of it. If Mickey wouldn’t give her answers she knew Lip would. She sucked his dick he literally had no other options.

“Hey douchebag come with me.” Mandy demanded fingers intertwining with Lip’s.

“I thought we were eating pizza here.”

“Change of plans. My place.”

She could see how uncomfortable he was the second she mentioned her place. Of course he knew something. Boys are fucking stupid.

They sat on the couch where Lip instantly tried to shove his tongue in Mandy’s mouth, as if that was going to stop her from getting an answer. Again. Boys. Not smart.

“Nice try Romeo, what the fuck is going on with our brothers?”

He sighed leaning back against the couch. “Hopefully your brother is burning in hell.”

“Is that anyway to talk about your future brother in law?” She smirked. “What happened this time, they get into a fight about who gets to hold the door open?”

“More like how many dudes did Mickey fuck in juvie.”

Her eyes widened and she quickly looked over at her brother’s door in disbelief.

“I’m sorry come again?”

Lip huffed. “I carried my drunken brother upstairs with a bloody nose and split lip only for him to come to me the next day and tell me he needed someone to go with him the clinic. And when we got there he then proceeded to tell the doctor that his oh so wonderful ex-boyfriend had been fucking people on the side. You’re brother’s an even bigger piece of shit than I thought.”

“Mickey . . . Mickey wouldn’t cheat on Ian.” She mumbled more to herself.

“Say that to his test results.”

“Is he okay? Did he get something?”

Lip shrugged. “Results never came. Guess he went and picked ‘em up at the clinic. He hasn’t been home since.”

Mandy was already up and looking for her shoes as he spoke.

“Hey where are you going?”

“What the fuck is the matter with you Gallaghers?!”She yelled from her room stumbling into her sneakers. “If any of you weren’t at home Ian would be the first one looking, and you sit there and just shrug when your brother could be sitting somewhere with an STD. Fuck Lip you guys are so fucked up.”

Apparently Mickey and Mandy were the only ones who knew Ian had switched jobs, which meant she was one of the only people who knew where he was. And quite frankly she didn’t like what she saw. Ian was straddling some guy sloppily. He couldn’t stand up right without swaying and the guy didn’t seem to care. His hands were all over him, gripping him and biting at him like a fucking piece of meat. That’s besides the fact that this guy was at least fifty. Mandy was basically watching her best friend get assaulted, and like hell she wasn’t gonna do something about it.

“Listen here you fat fuck, you get your filthy hands off his ass or I’m gonna taze you so long your balls turn into raisins.” She spat shoving her tazer into his side.

Ian was too fucked up to acknowledge any of them.  He was also a heavy fucker, and Mandy was positive that getting him home was the most intense exercise she had ever known. She managed to grab a cab fishing twenties out of his gold shorts to get them home.

When she got home though Ian was completely unconscious and there was no getting him out of the car on her own.  So she dashed inside to her brother’s room where he continued to stare grumpily at the wall like a sad kitten. It was actually kind of pathetic, but she chose not to voice that particular opinion.

“I need your help assface get up.” She demanded kicking roughly at his thigh.

“What the fuck Mandy go away!”

“Mick seriously it’s important come on.”

All he wanted to do was sit there until the night had passed, but he knew Mandy wasn’t going to leave him alone until he helped with whatever the fuck it was she wanted. So as much as it pained him to get up he did grumbling and cussing under his breath the entire time.

Out of all the things in the world Mickey expected to see in that taxi Ian Gallagher passed out in a pair of gold booty shorts was not fucking one of them. And the things it did to his body were so fucking ridiculous he wanted to kick his own ass. Because a piece of him, a pretty significant fucking piece at that, was overwhelming relieved. That was Ian, and he was there with Mickey, it didn’t matter for what reason, just the fact that they were together in that moment made that part of him that had felt so empty for so long feel whole again. As if that wasn’t fucking gay enough another piece of him felt angry and protective, because Ian didn’t look okay at all and he wondered subconsciously when was the last time he’d eaten, and when was the last time he’d been to ROTC and where the entire fuck were his clothes?! It was all one big jumbled mess in his heart and he hated, and loved, every second of it.

“What the fuck Mandy! What did you do to him?!” He spat taking in the unconscious redhead.

“Excuse me? I just saved his drugged out ass from being abducted by some fat fuck with hair plugs. Now help me get him in the house. You can both thank me later.”

Mickey felt the anger flow more freely as he thought about Ian at the club getting slipped shit he knew nothing about and being groped when he was too fucked up to feel it. It made him wanna walk up to the fucking club and shoot any fat fuck that thought they got to touch him,  that thought they were worthy enough to touch him.

Mickey slung him over his shoulder finger fumbling to find a spot on him that felt appropriate to touch. And he thought that maybe that made him different. Because he didn’t wanna touch Ian if it wasn’t okay, and it occurred to him that he really wasn’t his to touch anymore. That might have broken him a little bit.

They put him in Mickey’s room though Mandy had offered up her bed. It no longer mattered seeing as Terry had landed himself right back in jail a couple of weeks after the incident, and Mickey felt better with him there. He covered him with his blanket and went out to lie on the couch taking his frustrations out of his pillow and completely ignoring Mandy’s knowing look. He’d only been out of bed for five damn minutes and already the day had exhausted him. Fucking Gallagher.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Things were a little hazy waking up. Not that they hadn’t been the past few weeks, but that morning was particularly rough. He’d accepted the party favors from any customer that offered, and someone was always offering. Ian’s goal had been to forget; Mickey and West Point and his life at home and _Mickey_. He spent all night chasing away the very things that plagued him in his sleep. Still it was no use. That morning he could’ve sworn he was in Mickey’s bed. But Mickey wasn’t there. And that kind of fucking hurt.

He stumbled out of bed expecting the room to shift back to some fancy hotel, but it never did. And he was still in his uniform, which was weird. In the end Ian decided that if he’d finally snapped and created an alternate universe for himself where he still slept in Mickey’s bed than he might as well get a shower out of it.

With a towel wrapping gingerly around his waist he made his out of Mickey’s room where Mandy was cooking and Mickey was asleep. Maybe he had really lost his mind.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

Mandy turned a smirk playing at her lips. “It’s about fucking time. Thought you might actually out sleep Mickey for once.”

“Why am I here Mandy?”

“I saved you from being sexually assaulted. Your family kinda sucks sometimes so I brought you here.  We got things to discuss asshole and I don’t appreciate you ditching this shit stick without telling me them.”

He smiled something that had begun to feel foreign to him. Mandy was safe. Mandy was everything that Mickey was without all the pain. She was his friend, and she cared about him. She was the only one who went out and tried to find him. She could have whatever fucking answers she wanted.

“Like what?” Ian asked sitting down at the table.

Mandy’s eyes peered over at her brother still asleep on the couch.

“Like who the fuck told you Mickey could even think about cheating on you.”

Ooops…Except that.

He winced eyes falling to the table. “Don’t wanna talk about it. I—I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Shut the fuck up you look like you haven’t eaten in days you’re staying here. Ian you know that he wouldn’t.”

“He said it.”

“Who said what?”

“Mickey told me that he cheated. Terry found us together and he . . . beat the shit out of us. Mickey said that in juvie he—he fucked around. I didn’t need to hear anymore.”

Mandy stared at her best friend and he looked really fucking destroyed. She wondered if she’d ever even knew how deep Ian and Mickey were. If maybe it went beyond fucking for them and there was some rare, earth shattering love that belonged in a fucking romance novel. For a minute she wondered what it felt like to love your best friend, and more important what it felt like to have that best friend break your heart. Ian’s face said enough though. It wasn’t fucking good.

She set a grilled cheese in front of him and didn’t move until he started eating, his eyes never fully meeting hers again.

“Lip said you went to the clinic. What’d they say?” She asked softly.

He shrugged. “Clean. I didn’t even have crabs.”

“Well that—that’s good right?” 

Ian gave her an unimpressed look. “Why because he didn’t manage to give me aids or some shit? He still cheated and I was still dumb enough to think we meant something, to think condoms could be optional because he would never . . .”

Mandy reached out her fingers lying softly on Ian’s.

“Look I know my brother can be a shithead but I also know for a fact that he cares about you. That’s the only way I figured it out. Every time you were mad at him or he hurt you in any way he’d try and ask me for help without telling me who. It was always you. He doesn’t want to hurt you Ian. He’s always wanted to protect you.”

Ian shook his head in frustration. “What the fuck is there to protect me from? What good could possibly come out of this Mandy?”

“Our dad, Ian. He doesn’t give a fuck about slapping us around what do you think he would to you. My dumbass brother is trying to protect you; he’s just doing a really shitty job at it.”

He grew quiet seeming to process what she had said. It made sense. Mickey never was really good at plans, the first time Carl had found him his solution was to punch Ian in the face for Christ’s sake. And Ian knew better than anyone how scared of Terry he was. He also knew Mickey would do anything to protect him, even if meant hurting him in the process. Ian hated that.

He felt a combination of relief and anger swirling around in his gut. Relief because Mickey still loved him, just like a part of him had always known. Then anger, because was kind of self-sacrificing asshole breaks up with their boyfriend to “protect” him. Fucking Milkovich.

“I’m gonna go raid his clothes for something to wear.”

He squeezed at her hand to tell her how thankful he was for Mandy of all people to help him see what was going on. Collapsing on the bed that held just as many memories for him as his own, Ian sighed. He was in love with a total fucking idiot and there wasn’t a piece of him that had even begun to stop. He had it worse than ever for Mickey. It couldn’t be fixed. It couldn’t be sated. And he didn’t want it to. He just wanted his ex-boyfriend to be a little less stupid.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

Mickey was woken up by his sister for the second fucking time and he swore he was two seconds away from fucking cutting her ass. Admittedly he hadn’t slept very well on their fucked up couch and he kept walking past his room just to make sure Ian was alive. He had at least another hour of sleep in him and she was fucking that up!

“Bitch what the fuck do you want now?” He grumbled.

“Shhhh, there is a wild naked Gallagher in that room and you have to go pronounce your love for him.”

“If you think I’m joining in on your and Lip’s weird ass sex games your sadly mistaken.”

He flipped over to go back to sleep only for Mandy to yank roughly at his hair.

“Not my Gallagher you idiot yours. Now get the fuck up before you ruin this even more than you already have.”

“Goddammit Mandy.” He hissed.

He figured that dealing with Ian would be less painful than dealing with Mandy. He wasn’t sure why he thought that. Maybe it was just the hair tugging talking.

The stars aligned perfectly though, because the second he walked into his room Gallagher was letting his towel fall from his hips and Mickey was introduced to a fellow friend he hadn’t seen in way too long. _Jesus._

“Close your mouth Mick, you’ll get flies.” He muttered tugging on sweatpants that were way too small for him.

“That fucking thing get bigger?” Mickey mumbled, dazed.

Ian shrugged glancing down inside his pants.

“Puberty had some surprises in store, I guess.”

“Ain’t that the fucking truth?” He muttered to himself.

“Can I help you with something Mickey?”

Without the safe topic of Ian’s growing penis to talk about Mickey was thrown for a kind of loop. It was the first time he’d seen Ian since the incident, consciously at least, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell him. That it was all lies and he only said that so Ian wouldn’t be around him anymore, so Ian wouldn’t get hurt? Or maybe that he loved him, that he loved him so fucking much it hurt to breathe sometimes. What did you tell someone you’d hurt only to stop that exact thing from happening? He didn’t wanna be Mickey Milkovich, neighborhood thug/ racist homophobic bigot spawn extraordinaire with him. With Ian he always wanted to be more than what he knew he was. And that right there was exactly the fucking problem.

“I got tested.” Ian murmured breaking Mickey from his thoughts. “After what you said? I was terrified and I didn’t even know much about most of it. The lady was telling me all these things I didn’t have that I’d never even heard of. I just wanted to know if I had aids and if I was gonna die. I mean I had a feeling you’d be the death of me but never like that.”

Mickey swallowed heavily sitting on the once safe haven of his bed. He couldn’t look at Ian if he was ever gonna get through this shit.

“I didn’t . . . I never did _that._ I couldn’t. I tried once. Found a guy in juvie and everything. Couldn’t even pretend to get hard, had to kick the shit out of him to make sure he kept quiet. I thought it would make it easier to quit you. But I can’t. There’s no one else I wanted be with.”

“Wanted? You don’t wanna be with me now?”

It came out just as quiet and scared as Mickey felt.

He shook his head shakily. “I wanna keep you safe. I told you I would always keep you safe, and that has to be more important than what I want.”

Ian’s face scrunched up at that cause Mickey still didn’t seem to get it.

“Mickey you’re two fucking years older than me. You’re not my dad, you’re not my pimp it’s not your fucking responsibility to take care of me. I can take care of myself I don’t need you to protect me.”

He stalked closer crouching in front of Mickey and forced him to look at him.

“I don’t want a protector I want a boyfriend. I want someone who wants to make me happy, not someone willing to tell me they cheated on me just so I’d stay away. I want someone who won’t hurt me.”

Mickey’s arms were crossed and he was as closed off as ever and there was Ian still trying to push through that wall that Mickey constantly put up. He loved him and it didn’t matter how fucking frustrating that boy could be sometimes because Ian was never going to stop loving him.

“He’ll kill you.” Mickey insisted so heavily it almost came out as a whine. “He’ll kill you and make me watch or vice versa.”

“Mickey the only person who can hurt me is you. We can protect each other. We can . . . leave together. Or only be together at my house. I don’t care what it is but this self-sacrificing bullshit isn’t gonna cut it.”

“You would leave? For me? You fucking Gallaghers are like wolves; you need a pack to survive. I ain’t taking you away from your family.”

“You’re my family you dumbass.” Ian huffed pushing at Mickey’s thigh. “I need you just as much as them.”

Mickey shook his head for what had to be the millionth time and stood up ready to explode.

“You don’t fucking get it do you Gallagher? I’m fucking worthless! I’m a piece of Southside trash and that’s all I’m ever gonna be. Okay, you can’t just throw a new coat of paint on a piece of shit Toyota and try and sell it as a sports car. I know what I am, I know what I’m always gonna be and I ain’t fucking good for you. I’m not good enough. And this house?  A neighborhood where what we are gets you fucking killed? My piece of shit dad that would rather some whore ride my dick against my will than even think about me being gay? You tell me what part of that sounds like a life you wanna live!”

It was so infuriating, so incredibly maddening to hear the way he talked about himself that he just couldn’t take it. He was up too getting into Mickey’s face and getting mad. Very un-Ian-ly mad.

“What part of you don’t get to decide shit for me don’t you get?! You’re it for me. You’re all I’ve fucking wanted since I was seven. I’ve put up with every piece of shit you’ve thrown at me and I’m still here. Because I love you. And you love me. And there’s nothing this shitty town or your shitty dad or your shitty fucking self-sabotaging scams can do about that. The biggest fuck you you could ever give would be to be who you are. Just be with me and not give a shit about everyone else. That’s the fucking life I wanna live.  But I’m not gonna live without you. I want _you_ Mickey.”

He’s close enough now that he can touch him. His fingers ghosting over his hips before trading it in for a firm grip. He needs him here.  He needs him right next to him, where everything is okay because their together. This is what he needs. And he can’t settle for anything less.

“ _Ian.”_   Mickey mumbled.

“Shut up Mick.” He demanded.

They kissed and it felt like the world was whole again. Mickey needed that kiss, needed Ian’s touch to rid him of the whore’s. It seemed comical in that moment that Mickey could take care of Ian, when Ian was so much better at it. His arms wound around his waist in a vice like grip, and he was back on the ground again. Safe and happy and with Ian. And all those insecurities and fears that seemed to plague him for months were finally kept at bay. He didn’t have any answers, but he did have Ian. And honestly that was more than enough.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled immensely with whether or not to have Mickey actually cheat on Ian. I know that the plans i have for this story means that infidelity will be brought up on more than one occasion but i feel that the circumstances are crucial. To me if you love someone truly and actually love them, then cheating isn't an option because the very notion of cheating is being dissatisfied with your partner. And i have to believe that Mickey loving Ian means his eyes are solely for Ian. I think that the attempt to cheat is more of an internal struggle of how deep he's really in it with Ian. He struggles to believe that it can be as simple as fucking someone else but it isn't. When he can't do it he realizes that his love for Ian is bigger than his tendencies to self-destruct. And when Terry finds them together i think he tries to force himself to believe that his love for Ian must be bigger than everything else and that he has to give in to this self-sacrificing bullshit of if you love someone enough you'll let them go and let them be safe. In the end Ian basically has to scream at him to be selfish, don't sacrifice because that's not what i want i just want YOU. 
> 
> So yea that was kind of my thought process on that. 
> 
> As usual comments and kudos are immensely appreciate and i love to hear what you guys think always.
> 
> zankivich.tumblr.com  
> SEND ME PROMPTS


	10. Crazy In Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is seventeen. Mickey is nineteen. Things are changing. Ian and Mickey are changing and it feels like maybe Ian's changing differently than Mickey is. They're working to get things back to where they were and still advance, still move forward with their lives. Mickey starts to worry, Ian starts to hide, and neither of them know how to talk it out. No matter how much Ian tries to convince him that everything's okay, something doesn't feel right. Ian's not acting right. Something is off. And he has absolutely no idea how to get to the bottom of it.

Ian is seventeen when he feels like he’s on top of the world. He’s got all the energy in the universe and he’s hell bent on using it. With Terry back in jail Mickey was more lenient. When Ian basically told him he didn’t wanna move back into the Gallagher home Mickey said he could stay with him. Well in Mickey language it came out as more of a, “Jesus stop leaving your stuff all over the place and put it in a drawer Gallagher.” There were things set in motion, a plan for them to be happy and together and most importantly away from the fucked up parts of their hometown that could jeopardize that happiness.

It started with a conversation. A conversation Mickey didn’t want to have but something Ian was insistent on. It was their first night together in their new room, Terry’s old one, and Mickey had some things planned to make sure the room was completely ruined for his sick fuck of a father. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than the idea of Terry coming home to a bed where Ian had fucked Mickey senseless. It made him feel giddy inside. So of course Ian needed to ruin that.

“Mick we gotta talk.” He insisted pushing Mickey away when he advanced on him.

Mickey huffed collapsing on the bed like an adorable angry little starfish.

 “We spent all fucking week talking. I wanna fuck now.”

“I know but . . . you need to know what I did when we were broken up, and I need you to have the choice of whether or not you still wanna be with me. I want you to know everything.”

“No.”

It came out brute and staccato, the kind of voice that put an end to conversations. Ian had heard that voice come out of him before and he always knew that those were the moments where he had to pick either to push or fall back. He chose to push.

“No Mickey listen to me alright? I—I thought that you cheated on me. I thought that the past four and a half years of my life were a joke. That the only person I’ve ever loved didn’t give a shit about me. The things that I did, I didn’t enjoy, and there wasn’t a single part of me that wanted them to happen but I needed to . . . I wanted to pretend that you didn’t matter the way you said that I didn’t matter. I need you to know cause I don’t want you have the same fear that I did.”

Mickey wouldn’t look at him, which was frustrating as all hell. He loved Mickey the way he was, but there was nothing more frustrating than his blatant refusal to talk. Especially for someone like Ian who sometimes couldn’t shut up even when he wanted to.

He rolled over on top of his boyfriend, caging him in with arms and Mickey still managed to find a way not to look him in the eye.

“Whatever you did when we were broken up is your own damn business. But if you think me knowing about the random people you fucked to get me out of your system is gonna somehow help me you’re out of your fucking mind. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“But you deserve to know.”

Mickey reached up so fast Ian nearly missed the movement. He blinked and suddenly Mickey’s hands were cradling his face. He hadn’t felt that safe in a long time. There was an energy coursing between the two of them, and it felt amazing. There was nowhere else he’d rather be. No matter how hard it was this was exactly what Ian wanted to work at. He and Mickey were perfect together in his eyes, and the last thing he wanted was something to come between them again.

“I deserve the choice of whether or not I want to know right? And I choose not to know. Thinking of you, with them? I know it’s my fault and I don’t wanna think about that ever again. I just wanna think about. .. you know—us or whatever.”

Ian pressed his forehead firmly to Mickey’s “I love you. You at least deserve to know that. I love you and only you. You’re the only person in the world I wanna be with.”

“Yea okay. Just don’t go anywhere without me alright? I need you to stick around.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Mickey snorted. “Now that that’s established you gonna make a move or you got some more cheesy lines stored up there.”

“So pushy.” Ian muttered.

But then they were kissing and it felt like the world was turning on its axis again after years of standing still. They were together, moving together and touching each other and nothing could feel better. Ian ran his fingers along Mickey’s torso and he didn’t shy away from him. He let him love him. He let him see inside of him in a way no one else ever got to. Maybe it wasn’t making love, but it was as close as they would get. And for Ian it was enough.

“Missed you so much.” He sighed kissing his way down Mickey’s chest.

Buttons were a bitch, but there’s nothing more amusing—and quite frankly attractive—than watching your boyfriend get so upset at a pair of jeans that he rips them open. Mickey had plans that night, he knew what he wanted and he wasn’t afraid to ask for it. He let Ian pull him close, let their fingers thread together and their tongues dive into the other’s mouth. But at the end of the day there was only one thing he needed to happen. One task that needed to be completed.

“You gotta fuck me hard.”

Ian chuckled teeth raking over one of Mickey’s nipples. “I think I can handle that.”

“No I’m serious. Forget whatever we’ve done before, whatever we’ve talked about. I want you to _own_ me Ian.”

He was looking him in the eye so severely that Ian didn’t know whether to be turned on or terrified. That was usually the way it was with Mickey though.

“Okay.” He mumbled reaching for a condom on the bedside table.

He didn’t want prep, didn’t want anything that could take away from the feeling of Ian sliding inside of him. Except for lube of course, he wanted to be owned not split in two. As he looked back Mickey was already lying on his stomach ass presented to him on a silver platter and that thing that he’d been missing sparked within him again. Mickey made him feel alive, like there was this current coursing through his veins. He thought that it’d just been the whole first love thing and that he could have that spark with anyone, yet there it was after being MIA the entire time they were broken up. He didn’t know why or how he got that feeling with Mickey. He just knew he didn’t wanna fight it anymore, wanted to embrace it like he never had before.

His fingers slipped up Mickey’s back and over his shoulders as he pushed until bottoming out. There was an impatient grunt from his boyfriend’s lips that had him smirking into his skin. His chest was pressed into Mickey’s back and the need to intertwine their fingers was unnerving. He could see the slight difference between the paleness of his skin and the paleness of Mickey’s. Though his freckles were more prominent Mickey had some of his own. And he was beautiful. Jesus he was beautiful.

“For the love of God Gallagher, fuck me.” Mickey whined so sharply it was almost a hiss.

And then they were moving. Ian would pull his hips back and snap forward and Mickey would give this grunt. It wasn’t a moan or even a sound really but more of just a release of breath. The other guys, those men who would hang off his every word, would keen under his touch weren’t like Mickey. They cried out for him, and it just wasn’t the same. Mickey sounded strong and submissive all at the same time. His sounds were animalistic, and they fed something within Ian that truly exploded between the two of them. He found more in one gasp of breath from Mickey than he ever got from a single other lay. And he knew there was nothing he wanted more than _this,_ than what they had in that moment.

He was straddling Mickey’s hips, thighs falling over both sides of his ass and he gave it like there was no tomorrow. Pounding relentlessly at his flesh he took every opportunity to touch him. Mickey’s skin was hot, a sheen of sweat appearing as tiny beads rolled down his back. He followed the trail with his tongue reveling in the sizzling heat that threatened to melt them into one. He licked and bit at him and rutted his hips harder. The bed was knocking roughly into the wall, a squeak that only ancient springs in the middle of being ruined could make and it felt good. So fucking good that his toes curled involuntarily and he couldn’t figure out where he wanted to touch him. He wanted every piece of that man, wanted to get so deep in him there was no place left to go. He just wanted to fuck his boyfriend like he deserved.

Ian slipped his fingers into black strands pulling roughly till the curve of Mickey’s back pushed inwards and his ass was even closer. It was hard. Firm dragging pulls and quick rapid lunges of his hips. He covered Mickey’s body with his own working himself deeper and faster and harder. He’d never worked so hard in his life.

“S—Shit Ian. Fuck!” He huffed.

His rhythm started to stutter as he stumbled towards the finish line. Whatever was on Terry’s headboard began to tumble to the ground. Ashtrays ended up on the floor in loud thuds and whatever else was left thrown all over the place. His fingers reached down to touch Mickey and heaven descended on the fucking room.

Mickey was on the cusp of greatness. He was sure of it. Every smack of Ian’s hips was a giant fuck you to Terry. He took his dick like a pro, no moaning or crying just to prove it didn’t make him a bitch. He didn’t want to remember what it felt like when she touched him, didn’t want to remember how it hurt to look at himself in the mirror afterwards. He wanted Ian to make it feel good. He wanted Ian to fuck him, to shove his way inside of him and tell it was okay. Being this, being what he was didn’t make him a lesser. He was allowed to love, he was allowed to feel and it didn’t matter how goddamn hard that was to believe, because Ian was engraving it in his soul with every fucking pressing of his hips.

“Mick I’m gonna cum.”

His fingers unclenched from the sheets reached back to grip at Ian’s skin.

“On me. Do it on me.”

There was no time to check for consent or tell him no before Mickey was flipping over onto his back. He stared at Ian with a hunger, an almost desperate look in his eyes.  He yanked at the condom both of them moaning out as he wrapped a fist around both of their cocks. There it was. Heaven in its purest form.

“Oh fuck cum all over me.”

“Yea. Shit yes.”

Mickey came first groaning a beautiful sound as he finished in Ian’s fist slicking him up as he came right behind him. The result was amazing. It splattered all over Mickey’s chest marking him in a dirty, wonderful way that had him thrusting along his abs. They both collapsed in a messy heap panting uncontrollably.

“Damn that was good.” Mickey muttered blindly reaching for the cigarettes on the nightstand.

Ian raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Having an after fuck smoke that okay with you Orphan Annie?”

“Aww that’s cute.” He chuckled rolling over between Mickey’s legs. “It’s so cute that you actually thought I was done with you.”

And then his tongue was licking cum and Mickey forgot all about his cigarettes.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

“You’re staring.” Ian reminded Mandy.

They were both supposed to be eating cereal together but Mandy was a little busy staring at him. And it was a little past creepy.

She sighed flipping her long black hair over her shoulder.

“I’m trying to figure out if your dick is big or if you just know how to rock the boat.”

There he was choking on a mixture of cereal and a metal spoon when his boyfriend decided to save him from a terrible awkward situation. He had on no shirt because Ian had kind of torn his off of him, and he was ninety percent sure those were his boxers. The hair that was sticking up in all different directions was totally all his and that limp? That noticeable grimace on his face? Well that was just the power of the beast. That might be what he was thinking about calling his penis. It was a work in progress.

Mandy looked over at her brother and shook her head with a smirk.

“Big dick it is.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mickey muttered shoving at her head on his way past.

Ian just smiled. Mickey was kind of adorable in the morning.

“I like to think it’s a good combination of both.” He shrugged handing Mickey his coffee.

“There any wall left or did you smash through it all with the headboard.”

“You two are gonna be a bitch to live with.”

“Oooo that reminds me can I tell her?”

Mickey wondered idly how anyone could be that damn chipper in the morning. He also wondered why for the life of him he seemed to be immune to being annoyed by this kid. He still rolled his eyes and stole Ian’s cereal to keep up appearances though.

“Tell me what?”

“We were talking last night about the Terry situation and we’ve come up with a solution.”

“He came up with a solution. We’re just the dumbasses he’s gonna drag along for the ride.” Mickey interrupted.

Ian hushed him before continuing eyes wild and bright. “I’ve got the job at the club. I can pull in five hundred a night easy. And Mickey’s eighteen now and with Terry in jail he could run some of the scams, and you’ve got that job at the diner right?”

“Alright what are you getting at here?” She asked.

“Mickey’s never gonna be free in this hell hole. And I can’t go back to my house because our relationship just works better if I send money for the bills from afar. So we thought about living, you know, together. Somewhere else.”

“Oh jesus he wants to get an apartment away from this shithole and he wants you to live with us on some straight ‘no man gets left behind’ bullshit.” Mickey cut to the chase.

“Mick!” Ian whined punching his boyfriend roughly. “You agreed to the plan already dickhead.”

“Yea because you conveniently started asking me questions after I came jackass.” He muttered.

Mandy rolled her eyes at the two fighting like an old ass married couple.

“Mick’s leaving?” She asked.

They’d been together in that house practically their whole lives. She couldn’t think of being anywhere else, though she’d dreamed about it enough. In reality Southside was all she knew, it was her home and her playground. She couldn’t see herself actually leaving. Sure she was trash and she was known as a whore, but she had control over it. She was known as something, and that felt a hell of a lot better than being a nobody in some other random town.

Mickey sniffed. “We got a couple months until he gets out again right? We get all our money together we can probably afford something not so shitty. But I can’t . . . stay here. I gotta get out Mands. I’m just asking whether you wanna do the same or be his punching bag until he keels over fifty years from now.”

She looked at him and it was clear they had some silent communication thing going on. He could tell she was scared shitless, and she could tell he was feeling the exact same thing. But then he glanced over at Ian she saw the reason he was doing. She wondered if there was anything he wouldn’t do for him. And more than anything she wondered what it felt like to love someone like that.

“Can I think about it?”

Ian smiled reaching out to squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Sure, take as long as you need. I’m gonna go shower. Mick?”

“Yea be there in a minute.”

He left the two siblings alone, leaving Mandy to shrink in within herself.

“You know I can’t leave you in this fucking house right? What’s there to think about? Just come with us.”

Mandy shrugged. “Look I’m just not sure I wanna move into an apartment where you get everything you ever wanted and I’m stuck trying to figure what to do with my life. Here I got something, I am something.”

“Here you’re nothing but the Milkovich slut up the block who occasionally gets hit on by her old man when her brothers aren’t around to take the beating.” He said sharply. “What have either of us ever wanted more than getting out? You tell me that cause this bullshit about being ‘something’ is stupid.”

She sat silent losing all the fire that she threw at everyone else. Mickey had been there her whole life. He’d known her before Southside had made her what she was, before the reputation and the piercings and the short skirts. He’d watched her be beaten into submission, and what was worse was that he tried so desperately to protect her. She had no anger towards him, and that left her with nothing but a thin shell threatening to break with a single breath.

“Fine sit here and pretend that there’s anyone here that gives a shit about us.  I ain’t gonna fucking beg.”

He pushed away from the table stomping angrily into the shower where Ian was waiting for him. It was clear that he was angry and Ian’s plan of attack was apparently to bend Mickey over in one of the tiniest showers in all of America. As if his ass wasn’t tired enough.

“Jesus Christ Gallagher how could you possibly have any fuck left in you after last night. We went like five times.”

“We’re young. We should take advantage of our rebound rate.” He smirked already spreading his boyfriend open.

“Yea well the rebound rate on an asshole after you fucking jackhammer it open is a little longer than your slinky dick.” He insisted swatting Ian away.

But Ian was determined. His fingers trailed along Mickey’s thighs moving for a wonderful grip on his cock instead.

“Can I suck you off instead?”

“The fuck’s up with you?” Mickey asked.

“No more talking.”

With his mouth on Mickey’s dick it was a little hard to argue. He also found that you forget a lot of shit while getting sucked off. Like dick sucking amnesia. Powerful shit right there.

So the plan was work as much as physically possible until Terry got out and bail. Mickey’s brothers would do whatever anyone told them to do, so he’d take advantage of that as long as he could. Scam after scam after robbery after scam. He was also the only legal adult between him and Ian and in order to actually get an apartment his boyfriend decided he should open them a bank account.

“Under your mattress is not a fucking bank account Mick. If you put the money in an account we’ll gain interest and . . . you know…math.” He’d insisted.

So Mickey “Fuck U-Up” Milkovich would go down to the bank every Friday and deposit the money between he and Ian that they’d come up during the week. It was in those days he discovered that gay dancer beats scammer a hundred to one.

“Hey you got your money from the week, I’m gonna stop and deposit it before work.” Mickey mumbled around a cigarette.

He was sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of money in front of him counting and doing the math to see how much they had. Ian insisted that the bank would do that for him, and Mickey insisted he was gonna let some corporate fuck ups with a calculator ruin their shit.

There he was just counting things up when Ian pulled out a wad of cash that tripled his stack in height.

“Jesus Christ, you doin’ something down at that club I should know about?” He asked grabbing and quickly flicking through the stack.

Ian chuckled. “Just my job. You should come by sometime. I think I’d like dancing for you.”

“Ian this is over three grand.”

“North side guys thing they can buy whatever they want.  And at my job they can.” He shrugged.

“The fuck does that mean?”

Ian ignored him completely coming around to straddle him at his chair. He was already hard and worked quickly to wrap himself around his boyfriend, teeth grazing roughly at his earlobe.

“I love you so much. Kinda wanna see how hard I gotta pound you for this chair to fall to pieces.”

“Enough man we fuck anymore and your dick is gonna shrivel up and die.” Mickey complained.

“Really? Cause I’m feeling pretty good over here.”

“My asshole is tired.”

Ian was doing a great job of listening to Mickey . . . as he was pulling at his shirt with his teeth.

“We’ll switch . . . I’ve been practicing.”

“The fuck you mean you’ve been practicing?”

Mickey had never even thought about them switching up their positions. Sure he’d watched porn where guys did it all the time, but he knew which way he liked it and change was never really his thing. But Ian was hard to say no to. Not just because he was hot and Mickey kind of loved him a whole bunch, but because at that point in time Ian didn’t really take no for an answer. Sometimes it seemed like he needed it. Like sex wasn’t an option but a necessity. And Mickey didn’t really want to deny him of that. There was a part of him that was reminded of the prostitute during it though and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what aspect of it that was. He knew it wasn’t normal, at least not for Ian, but he genuinely had no idea what was going on.

Ian leaned in nose skimming Mickey’s throat as he whispered somehow rough and sweet all at the same time.

“I want you to fuck me Mick.”

“All the rubbers are in our room.” Mickey grunted as Ian yanked at his pants.

“No time. I wanna feel you.”

It was . . . different. Not unpleasurable because, well, Ian was there, but he could definitely tell there was something missing. It didn’t help that Ian wouldn’t slow down. He seemed hell bent on actually breaking the chair. In fact the entire time he seemed distracted and fidgety. It was like there was an itch he was trying to scratch and no matter how hard he hit that spot he couldn’t get relief. Even after Mickey came and Ian worked himself over the edge, when the fog of their orgasm cleared he didn’t have that happy, blissed out look on his face. If anything he looked bored maybe a little agitated.

“Gotta go to work. Love you.” He grinned kissing Mickey on his way out the door.

Mickey sat back in his chair heart racing and still slightly out of breath. Something was up. And he had absolutely no idea how to fix it. Great going Mickey.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

“IAN!!!!! WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY BRASS KNUCKLES!”

“Third drawer from the left with the rest of the melee weapons!”

Mickey stormed out in the living room where Mandy was currently standing watching Ian lose the last of his fucking marbles. Everything in their house was being ransacked and reorganized.  Ian was currently scrubbing at some stain on the table and the resemblance between him a junkie was just a little too close for Mickey’s liking.

“The fuck’s the matter with him?” Mickey mumbled.

Mandy shrugged. “He’s your best friend slash gay lover. You know him better than anyone; you tell me.”

“Jesus. Alright Ian enough of the Mary Poppins shit lets go eat or something I’m hungry and there’s fuck all in this dump.”

His voice was shaking. He hated that his voice was shaking but there just didn’t seem to be anything to do about that. If Ian wasn’t gonna be okay how the in the world could he manage?

“Can’t gotta clean. Did you know that the remote for the tv houses a germ called rhinovirus. It causes the common cold. I read about it this morning after my run.” He explained still scrubbing away.

“You went for a run this morning? You didn’t get in till four. We didn’t go to bed till after five, what time did you get up?”

“I don’t know seven? Who cares I feel great. Running is good for you Mick, you should come sometime. Cut back on the cigarettes. Hey did you know that your hands have about five thousand germs on them right now? How crazy is that? Shit I gotta reorganize the bathroom!”

And then he was up and out of the room before either of them could ever blink.

“The hell am I supposed to do with him?” He muttered.

Mickey was pretty sure one of the only job descriptions he had was to take care of Ian Gallagher, and whatever had just left the room was a clear example of the opposite of taking care of Ian Gallagher.

“Welp you do have the only other people in the world who know him better than you right across the street.”

“Ugh I don’t wanna fucking talk to Gallaghers, they make my head hurt.”  He whined.

And worse, though he knew he’d never admit it to Mandy, they would most definitely try and take him away from Mickey.

“Alrighty then pop some popcorn would you I want a snack while we watch your boyfriend completely lose his shit.”

Mickey looked nervously at the door Ian had disappeared through biting his lip in fear. Whatever was going on was getting bigger by the hour, and his biggest fear was that it would get so big that he couldn’t handle it. The last thing he wanted was to let Ian down. That scared him more than anything.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“Hey you wanna go on a date with me?”

Ian looked up at where his big bad boyfriend was currently leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed like a shy little kitten. His heart squeezed at the sight.

“I’m sorry what?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You. Me. Some restaurant with like metal forks or some shit. You wanna do that?”

Ian stood up from their bed wrapping his long arms around Mickey and giving him a soft look. That was his Ian. Right there in that moment, he knew it in his heart. And when those arms were around him he swore they were the only thing keeping him on this earth.

“Are you dying Mick?” He whispered.

Mickey snorted shoving playfully at him before pulling him right back by his shirt.

“I’m fine.” He sniffed with a shrug. “Just . . . you wanna go or what?”

“Yea,” He nodded his whole face lighting up. “Course I want to. I—I gotta work tonight though.”

Mickey’s eyes were on Ian’s lips as he answered, “We got three times what I thought we would have in the bank. Missing one night of gargling old man balls ain’t gonna stop us from leaving this dump. Just got out with me.”

“Okay. Gotta call off first though.”

“Should probably change first though.”

And then they were moving backwards eyeing each other hungrily. All the softness dissipated as Mickey threw Ian down to the bed yanking at his jeans like they were his mortal enemy. That time was different. Mickey was fighting for something. Maybe it was to gain control again, to find something he could grasp on to and determine what happened. He got to decide how hard they went, how fast and how slow. When he pulled at Ian’s hair and Ian would beg him to pull harder, to ride him harder he still got to decide. In that moment, in that room, with his legs straddling the love of his life he found what he’d been missing the past couple of months. It was all about dominance, about authority.

“W—What are you doing?!” Ian whined when Mickey let him slip from within him.

Mickey ignored him moving between Ian’s legs and letting his cock slip between his lips.

“Shit Mickey,” He hissed. “I’m gonna cum.”

He worked to relax his throat all the while sliding down deeper and deeper till the head of Ian’s dick entered his throat. Ian came in loud, blissful moans throbbing within his boyfriend’s mouth. Mickey let him slip out not even bothering to clean him up like he usually would’ve before climbing out of the bed.

“Get ready. Reservation’s at eight.” He mumbled on his way out the door, stilling struggling with the zipper of his jeans.

And the worst part was Ian didn’t even realize anything was wrong.

They walked to the L side by side in silence. Mickey wouldn’t speak to him and Ian was a little confused as to why. But he was also confused on the flickering street lamp across from them. And do people spell it “L” or “El” when they talk about the L? And he kind of wanted to fuck someone. And he felt soooooo good. He couldn’t wait to listen to Mandy’s ipod on his run that morning. She had such good taste in music. But wait, why was Mickey mad at him anyway?

“Hey.”  He hummed quickly kicking at Mickey’s ankle.

They sat side by side on the L, the rest of the place vacant except for a couple of stragglers making their way home from late shifts.

“What?”

“Are you mad at me?”

There’s not a more annoying question on of the face of the planet than, “Are you mad at me”. It doesn’t matter who’s asking it, it immediately makes you sound like a five year old child. Mickey shivered involuntarily at the question alone, before peering into Ian’s eyes. He wanted to get out. He wanted to believe that he and Ian were gonna make it, and they were gonna live in some shitty apartment together and do stupid romantic shit that he hated but also kind of loved. He wanted it all. He was completely in with Ian. There was nowhere else he could even dream of being. But when he looked into those eyes something was off. Something that didn’t scream the same thing back to him. He remembered a time when Ian’s eyes held nothing but devotion and adoration, when he loved Mickey so hard it made up for the fact that he hadn’t quite managed to love himself. Now he just seemed far away, moving moving moving way too fast for him to keep up. And it was that small bit of hesitance that was ruining the dream.

“I just wanna know what’s up with you.” He said. “You’ve been acting strange. I mean when’s the last time you got more than three hours of sleep? I don’t even think you went to bed last night Ian. We fuck so much it’s not even enjoyable, it’s like your just following the motions and even that doesn’t wear you out anymore. When I woke up to piss you were gone. And I—I don’t know where you go or what you’re doing but I’m worried. I’m worried about you. I . . . I love you.”

He doesn’t know how to tell him he thinks he’s cheating. Mickey didn’t wanna be a bitch, didn’t want to cling onto to Ian in any way he saw as emasculate. But there was thing feeling of emptiness in his gut when Ian looked at him sometimes. And with all the insecurities, all of the struggle with Terry and the whore and wondering what Ian had done when he was alone his mind went wild. He was scared.

Ian smiled softly moving to lean his head on Mickey’s shoulder so he could look up at him. And somehow it didn’t make him feel any better.

“Mick I feel amazing right now. You and me, we’re good. And you’re safe. I get to come home to you every night and lie with you every night. I’ve been dreaming of that since I was seven. I don’t want to sleep. When I’m with you I never wanna sleep again.”

It takes root. Ian can see it on his face. How he softens and leans into his touch. He begins to erase the doubt, and create a new vision of himself in Mickey’s eyes. He doesn’t know that he’s manipulating Mickey any more than Mickey does. But he keeps going, because something in him tells him that this is what he needs, that Mickey being against him isn’t good. And Ian just really wants to feel good.

“I love you.” He whispered fingers intertwining with Mickey’s. “I love you more than anything. It’s probably just all the excitement you know? Sometimes I get so filled with energy I just gotta walk it off. And I don’t wanna wake you because you’re so tired after sex. I’m just trying to be considerate. It’s not a big deal I swear. And I’ll tone it back. The sex. I don’t have to leave at night either. I can just stay with you okay?”

There was a hesitance that Mickey couldn’t push down. Something telling him that things weren’t nearly as okay as Ian was trying to make them out to be. But he wanted them to be. And so for now they were.

“Okay.” He nodded.

He tried to convince himself that he was over reacting. That his fear of Ian leaving him had gotten to his head. If only it weren’t so easy to pretend. He could’ve done something sooner.

“Reservation for two.” Mickey mumbled embarrassed.

“Name?”

“Milkovich.”

The big, obnoxious smile on Ian’s face wasn’t helping the goddamn situation. Fancy restaurants made him feel itchy. And his boyfriend was hell bent on making it worse.

“I can’t believe we’re on a date right now. Look this candle is totally actually on fire. Mick look! Breadsticks.”

Mickey really wanted to be harsh on him. But he was really adorable and Mickey hated it.

“You’re stupid.” He chuckled.

“Awwww babe are we opening up a discussion of petnames?”He smirked reached for Mickey’s hand on top of the table. “I call dibs on butter nugget.”

“Jesus.”  He huffed.

“I mean that’s an option. Doesn’t really have that sentimental feel to it though. You could call me baby. Or sweetheart. I would love to hear you say the word nookums I might die from cuteness overload.”

“Anyone ever told you you talk too much?”

“Only the love of my life. Quite frequently too.” He grinned. “You wanna order for me? Woo me with your romantic tendencies.”

“I want you to shut the fuck up Gallagher, damn.”

But his cheeks reddened and the smirk was so evident on his face there was no point in hiding it. He was the cutest thing Ian had ever seen in his life. He couldn’t have been any deeper in love with him.

“I want the steak. Rare and the potato with sour cream and butter. Orphan Annie can order for himself.”   
  
Ian smirked ordering his own steak but with a salad. Fucking salad.

“I can’t believe I’m in love with someone who would willingly order a salad. No wonder my dad hates you.” Mickey snorted.

“Oh that’s right! Terry’s a salad-a-phobic. I totally forgot. I’m so lucky you’ve stuck it out with me this long.”

“Fuckin’ right you’re lucky.”

They settled into their own natural witty banter easily. Maybe that’s what made it so difficult to see. Because at that point things could still be good. They could still feel normal.

“You remember that time when I was in the fourth grade and you convinced me to run around the playground with my pants around my ankles?” Ian asked around a bread stick.

He snickered. “Oh yea! I told you we’d do it together and your dopey ass just smiled and went with it. Fucking idiot!”

“Hey I made it half way before I fell.”

“Sure, you also fell face first into the snow and ended up with hypothermia you dumbass!” He chuckled. “Fucking Fiona kicked my ass all the way up the block for that one.”

Ian shrugged. “I would’ve done whatever you said. You were the coolest person I’d ever met. That’s why Lip doesn’t like you ya know? Feels like you stole me away or something.”

“Yea well Phillip fucks my sister now, so I have a little bit of a tough time trying to feel sorry for him.” But then he softened slightly. “’Sides, you’re the only person who’s ever wanted to be around me. Figured I deserved at least that.”

“Nah I’m not. You’re Mickey Milkovich. Neighborhood badass. The parents hate you and the kids fear you, but everyone one of them envied you. I’m just the only one you let in.”

He sighed. “I had a thing for freckles. Mandy had ‘em I didn’t. You were just one big freckly freckle. It was meant to be.”

“You’re an asshole. I refuse to believe that you love me for my freckles.”

“Nope just your sparkling personality. And your eyes, weird ass things. Ma once said if you fall for someone’s eyes you know you’ve found the once cause, when you grow old and shit everything will change but those eyes will always the same. Then again yours change daily, so that could all be a crock of shit. But I like them so I think I’ll keep you.”

Ian smiled softly reached tentatively out for his hand across the table. And his mind and all the bubbling energy inside of him slowed for just a second, and in that moment it was just them. Just their hands and their eyes and their love.

“Just promise me you’ll keep me forever?”

The romance of the situation was actually stifling. The crazy thing was that forever didn’t scare Mickey at all. That amount of commitment would be seamless because there was nothing else he wanted. What scared him was the possibility of Ian changing his mind.

“’Course. Just hope your idea of forever is the same as mine.”   
  
The food came before Ian could ask what he meant.

They didn’t get a chance to speak of it again.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like you kind of get where I'm going with it now. I never want to write bipolar Ian because I'm not bipolar and before the show and doing my own research i knew very little of the disorder. But it's challenging, it's hard and it's a very real thing, so i like to challenge myself with it. i also think it's really important for their dynamic. It's challenging on Ian and of course on Mickey and it's gonna test the boundary of their friendship and their relationship. I'm sorry if this is a disappointment, but i still think the story is gonna be good. hope you guys stick around to see it.


	11. The Hospital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is seventeen when everything comes to a head. Mickey has to take a stance and confront the person he loves about his mental health. That stance may just come between them and it forces both Ian and Mickey to make really hard decisions concerning both their future together and as individuals. What will they choose when it seems like the only options will separate them?

Mickey is ninteen and things are good for a while. After that night Ian tries to fix the things they talked about on the L. The sex, although still intense, doesn’t leave Mickey bedridden. If he wakes up it’s to Ian at the computer and not missing like before. They’re cute again. They lie on the couch and watch shitty moves and irritate Mickey’s siblings with intense make out sessions. Ian still tries to make butter nugget happen despite, “Stop trying to make butter nugget happen Ian, it’s not going to happen.” They’d watched mean girls one too many times though. Things were better. But still . . . off.

For instance Ian still didn’t sleep. And he continued to bring home unbelievable amounts of money from the club. One day he sent Fiona rent money and still handed over well over three grand. He assured Mickey that summer meant big spenders and he was just capitalizing on that. But it didn’t feel right. He didn’t even know how to describe the way Ian was making him feel. It was just different. A bad different, and he didn’t fucking like it.

“Alright I gotta go to work. I’ll see you tonight?” Ian murmured arms around his boyfriend’s neck.

Mickey sighed hating that still leaned desperately into that touch. “Yea, sure.”

“I love you.”

“You too.”

Truth be told he had nothing to do that night. And maybe that wasn’t the best thing for him. He spent all his time with Ian or Mandy, and if they weren’t around he was forced to find entertainment in his brothers. Mandy was gone, and Jaime and Iggy were so dumb it actually started to hurt just to look at them. He couldn’t seem to get Ian off his mind either. He had this strange feeling that Ian was doing something wrong when he left at night, something that he felt the need to cover up with sickly sweet smiles and enthusiastic kisses. Truthfully it didn’t feel like the Ian he once knew was there most of the time and that chilled Mickey to his very core.

So maybe it was the thought of losing Ian, of his crippling abandonment issues that led him to the club that night. Maybe he thought he’d show up and find Ian selling drugs or robbing people, something that made sense. Hell maybe he even thought he’d find him making out with some random guy with a six pack. That would’ve made sense. Mickey liked to think he could’ve dealt with that. But what he got was worst. He got the unknown, and Mickey wasn’t good with that.

“Hey you seen Ian? Tall, redhead, smiles too much?” He asked the bartender.

“Get in line buddy, everyone wants a piece of that.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yea well he’s with me. We’re together. So where the fuck is he?”

“Damn he uh left about twenty minutes ago.”

“The fuck you mean he left?”

“Let’s just say for tonight? He’s not with you. Look Ian’s one of the special dancers. They get rented out to whoever’s willing to choke up the cash and the buyer gets to do as he pleases.”

Mickey froze as the tide closed in quickly pulling him under. He should’ve known. It was so good. He was so good. Now there he stood and the pain was unbearable, it crushed him where he stood. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see through that hurt and that betrayal. It didn’t matter that he’d never understood why Ian was with him, because up until that moment he had been. He’d always chosen Mickey. And now he didn’t. And if that wasn’t the most heart breaking shit ever, he didn’t know what was.

He stumbled home a mixture of mangled lungs struggling to breathe and knees locking up every couple steps. Through all the years of being beaten and bruised, of being instilled that he wasn’t worth a damn nothing had ever hurt like that. Ian was his person. He was everything he’d wanted. And just like that he wasn’t enough. Just like that he wasn’t worthy. He barely made it into bed before he let the waves spill over sucking in where he could no longer breathe or see. He thought maybe if he stopped kicking against the current he might die there twisted into his sheets as his tears stained horribly into his pillow.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Ian walked into the house well after noon. He was wearing clothes from the night before and was calm as could fuckin’ be. Mickey sat in the living room smoking the fifth cigarette of his second pack of the day with a plethora of beer bottles surrounding him on all sides. Ian just went to the fridge to grab his own before plopping happily down on the couch with a playful smile like everything was okay.

“Sorry I’m late; fuckin work was crazy last night.” He breathed leaning in to kiss Mickey on the cheek.

Mickey instantly recoiled as if Ian had gone to slap him instead of kiss him. That’s when he noticed the way Mickey’s knee was bouncing. His eyes were red and wet and bloodshot. His fingers trembled around his cigarette like he was barely keeping it together.

Mickey snorted. “Work was crazy last night was it? They ask you stay and do inventory? Or maybe it was just an all-night rager that got you walkin in here at almost one in the fucking afternoon like work is the reason you’re late.”

“Jesus grandpa relax, you’re gonna give yourself a hernia.” He joked. “Look I went out with some of the guys from work. Fiona called and wanted me to come over. I crashed over there.”

“Mkay.” He nodded. “That before or after you left the club last night to fuck someone while I wait around for you like some pathetic bitch?”

His fingers were in fists then as he shot up out of his seat. Mickey needed distance. Because the Milkovich instinct was to inflict pain on others and inflicting pain on Gallagher seemed like a really fucking good idea right then. His heart was still throbbing with sadness but everything raged in fiery embers tingling at his fingertips. He was seething.

“Mick,” Ian murmured.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” He snapped. “I swear to fucking God Ian I’m trying not to hit you right now.”

“Alright. Okay, just relax. I was just trying to make you happy.”

“Oh this oughta be good. Cause nothing makes me happier than my boyfriend cheating on me that’s a real fucking zinger there Gallagher!”

“You said you were tired. You wanted me to change, to stop all the sex right? Well I did. But I’ve got so much energy and all these ideas and so much I wanna do. I just need to get it out okay, I gotta get it fucking out of me. I’m not cheating on you. I love you Mickey.”

Mickey couldn’t believe his fucking ears. His anger took on a hint of incredulous wonderment. Was he actually fucking serious?

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I don’t want to hurt you. He said he was clean and he gave me two grand. We need the money Mick.  I wanna make you happy okay? I’ll do anything to make you happy even if that means fucking someone else.”

“For fucks sake would you listen to yourself?!” Mickey exploded. “That doesn’t make any goddamn sense. What are you taking at that club that’s got your brain fucking melting.”

“Jeez relax.”

He tried to smile and move closer to Mickey, but Mickey shrugged off the touch.

“Don’t touch me. You need to pack your shit Ian.”

“What?”

“You’re sick. You need to see a fucking doctor or something.”

“Mickey,” Ian mumbled his eyes softening in that always got things to go his way.

He shook his head. “You need help. Right fucking now.”

And just like that something shifted, Ian’s eyes glazed over and he seemed to almost vibrate where he stood. One second he was staring at Mickey with pleading eyes and then the next his Ian was gone again, replaced with an angrier, jittery version of himself.

“Fuck you.” He sniffed pushing his way out the door and away from the situation.

And of course Mickey chased him like the little bitch he was. He felt like he’d been chasing Ian Gallagher all his life and nothing he could do was ever gonna stop him. Ian was inevitable in a way. And when he wasn’t right there in front of Mickey, his heart felt like it was pulling him forward as if they were magnets. With Ian nowhere in sight it was difficult to breathe. He just wanted to take it all back, tell him they could figure it out together. No shrinks, no doctors, nothing that didn’t mean them being together.

His fist rang pathetic and scared on the Gallagher front door before he budged in praying that Ian would go there.

“Ian! Ian goddammit where are you?!”

“He’s not here.”

Mickey turned where Fiona was standing at the front of the kitchen her arms crossed and mother persona taking over. She’d been there his whole life. And a part of him wanted to just deflate and let her handle everything. But he couldn’t. Because it was Ian. And with Ian Mickey never felt right unless he was directly in the middle of things.

She noticed the red rimmed eyes and frantic look on his face, and all the yelling she’d built up about her little brother shacking up with a Milkovich failed her.

“Mickey what’s wrong? What happened?”

Mickey let a gust of air pass through his lips as he ran his hand tiredly over his face.

“H—He’s been acting strange. I thought I could handle it. I thought we could fix it together and he—he left. He just ran out and I don’t know what the fuck to do now!” His voice edged near hysterics. “Tell me what the fuck to do Fiona.”

She led him to kitchen fingers, soft and reassuring on his back as they sat down. She sat a cup of coffee in front of him as if he’d ever have a chance of getting his fingers to stop shaking in order to take it. Then she sat down across from him and had him tell her everything.  

He does. He tells hers about Ian’s late nights at the club, how he doesn’t sleep anymore, and he’s bouncing off the walls. He tells her about all of his projects that he starts and then quits so that he can begin a new one, how the Milkovich house has never been cleaner since it was built. He doesn’t tell her about the sex, about how he knows he can’t satisfy him anymore, but oddly enough talks about the cheating. He talks about how he confronted him and Ian wasn’t even aware he was doing something wrong. He thought he was being helpful. It wasn’t until the end that he realized how deep into shit he was with this.

“I should’ve come to you sooner. He said he was stopping by, giving you money for rent and shit. I thought that if something was wrong you would say something. Fucking Gallaghers never keep their mouths shut.”

She ignored the jibe placing her hand on top of his. “Look Mickey I think I know what’s going on. And if I’m right this isn’t your fault. This was never something you could’ve prevented.”

He shook his head quickly trying to clear the tears.

“I promised I’d fucking take care of him.” He hissed through clenched teeth. “I gave him my word and now I don’t even know where he is. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

She nodded reassuringly. “Mickey you remember that one time when you came over for Thanksgiving?”

He sniffled. “What when Monica tried to kill herself?”

“Yea, uhm did Ian ever tell you anything about that? About why she might have done that?”

“Yea. He said she was bipolar. That she refused to take her meds and did really fucked up shit sometimes. He was pretty scared of her.”

“Ian’s a lot like her, more than any of the rest of us. And it sounds like . . . maybe he has what Monica has.”

Mickey stared at her dumbfound trying to figure out a way to understand.

“What you think he’s bipolar?”

“I think he’s showing some pretty important signs. Hyper sexuality, little need of sleep, racing thoughts, overly good mood, excessive energy. Look he’s gonna crash eventually. And if it’s anything like Monica it’s gonna be bad. So if you don’t think you can handle that . . . I’ll understand.”

In a flash he ripped his hand out from underneath hers the anger from earlier bubbling up again.

“Excuse me? What the fuck Fiona!? Look I realize that I’m just the neighborhood thug from next door with the knuckles tats to you. I might be a piece of shit to everyone else but I’m not to him. And I’ve been here the whole fucking time alright, even when you and Lip were too fucking busy with your own lives I was here. So fuck off with your mommy-dearest-I-know-what’s-best-for-him bullshit cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere. We’re in this bullshit life together. And we’re gonna take care of each other with or without you.”

God he couldn’t believe her. That after everything, after Ian not wanting to be home because she didn’t understand she went and proved him right. Mickey was a lot of things, but he wouldn’t ever leave Ian. Ian was his whole fucking world.

His ranting and raging were interrupting by his phone ringing, which was probably a good thing before he started laying into her about Lip.

“Hello?” He muttered.

“Mr. Milkovich? This is Amy from Chase. There is an Ian Gallagher here that insists that he has access to your account and is currently being very disrespectful and loud in our establishment. Do you know this individual or shall I contact the police?”

“No! No, no police alright? Look I’m gonna come get him, just keep him there.”

Before the woman could even respond Ian was screaming in the background so loud Fiona could hear it from where she sat.

“Sir, he is currently in the fetal position begging us not to let the demons get him. I’m afraid if you don’t get here soon I will contact the authorities.”

“Fuck.”

He didn’t even spare Fiona another glance before he was out of the house and chasing Ian down. He made a mental note to kick his boyfriend’s fucking ass when they were through with the whole fiasco.

“Fucking Gallagher.” He muttered.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

The engine was still running as Mickey made his way inside the bank. His heart was pounding, beads of sweat beginning to form at his hairline, and the only thing his mind could focus on was Ian. So the fact that Ian was very much not there was not okay with him.

“What in the entire fuck do you mean he’s not here?!” Mickey roared.

“We called the authorities and he ran. He was being disruptive sir.” Was the only explanation he got.

“GODDAMMIT!”

He stalked back to the car with no idea of how to find Ian. With his limited knowledge of bipolar disorder Mickey’s thought was that Ian was in grave and terrible danger. He didn’t know the half of it. Because at that very moment Ian Gallagher was crashing. And somehow in the midst of his fall there was only one person he wanted to talk to.

“Mick?”

“Jesus Christ Ian where are you? I’m gonna come get you okay, and we’ll talk just tell me where you are.”

That’s when the crying started. Ian’s fingers dug mercilessly into the phone as he sobbed. It hurt. It was like something rotten and foul was plaguing his insides and he just wanted it to go away. He wanted to stop hurting Mickey, wanted to stop all those people who had stared at him like he was crazy. Ian was folding in on himself and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“I’m so sorry.” He sniffled head banging against the wall.

“Sorry about what? Ian what did you do?”

“They wouldn’t stop looking at me. Everyone was staring at me like I was some nut case. But it felt so real. I just wanted them to stop. They won’t stop.” His watery voice came through.

“Okay. Okay. Just keep talking to me I’m gonna come get you. Are you at home?”

“You weren’t here. I just wanted you to hold me and make it go away like always. Mickey I’m tired.”

Mickey’s foot edged down on the gas his heart pounding harder than it had all day. His mind was doing terrible things like blending Thanksgiving into its own horror scene where Ian replaced Monica and bled out before Mickey could get to him. He was scared, more scared than he’d ever been in his whole life, but the worst part was that Ian wasn’t there to go through with him. They were alone, without the other to make it better.

“Alright I’ll come home and we’ll sleep alright? We’ll do whatever you want.”

“No I’m tired of all this I don’t wanna do it anymore. I just love you and I’m sorry about what I did. I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry.” He mumbled the line disconnecting.

“Ian? Ian talk to me. Ian! Shit.”

Usually Milkovichs didn’t dial 9-1-1. In fact Mickey had never dialed the number in all of his life, despite his constant encounters with the law. His voice shook, his hands clammed up, and he wanted to curl in a ball and cry. Telling 9-1-1 that the love of your life may be trying to kill themselves is shockingly enough not a fun fucking time.

And so he headed back inside the Milkovich house where it was eerily quiet. The bathroom door was cracked and he could see Ian lying on the floor from where he stood. His heart squeezed uncomfortably and he wasn’t sure if he would make it through this. But it was Ian. And for that reason alone, he found a way to fucking deal.

The blood was a lot. He didn’t remember there being so much in the kitchen. It dripped from his wrists in thick lumps forming shiny pools on the linoleum. There were bottles strewn about, and a couple of pills that had made their way into the stream of red. The small space did little to contain his massive body, legs wild and cramped beneath the toilet. His tear stained face was tired and ashen under the shitty lights, and that piece of hair that had grown was bent down across his forehead. Still he was beautiful. Still he was this wonderful, amazing creature that Mickey loved with every fiber of his being. And that day, in that tiny bathroom as he watched the love of his life bleed out he truly knew what it meant to have a broken heart.

“Hey, hey Ian? Ian can you hear me, wake up.” He mumbled thickly pressing wadded up towels to his wrists. “I need you to tell me what you took.”

“It’s all fucked now. I’m sorry, you gotta believe I would never do nothing to hurt you. I just wanted it to stop. They were going to take me away. They told me to do it; they told me you wanted it. I’m sorry.”

His eyes drooped closed then, and Mickey’s heart picked up a stuttering rhythm struggling to thump through its own mangled brokenness.

“No no no no no come on. Keep your eyes open. Look at me please?”

“No I don’t wanna. I wanna die Mickey.” He replied stubbornly as if they were talking about a nap instead of his mortality.

“Don’t fucking say that. I need you okay? I fucking love you you idiot and you promised me. You don’t get to leave me here, so we’re gonna fucking sit here and talk about meaningless bullshit until the ambulances comes and fixes you. And then when you’re all better I’m going to kick your redheaded ass for putting me through this.”

They sat on the cold linoleum surrounded by Ian’s blood as Mickey struggled to hold onto his oversized boyfriend. They were both shaking for totally different reasons. He couldn’t look away. Ian was Mickey’s own personal hell in that moment and he wasn’t going to give in to the flames. He just needed him to be okay.

“Hey you remember that time we ditched class to hang out at your pool all day? Fiona was at work and everyone was at school and we just laid there and talk about all the shit we’d do if we ever got out of here. You said you wanted to go on a road trip and see all those stupid attractions like the world’s biggest frying pan.” Mickey chuckled. “And I wanted to go to a hotel and fuck it up as much as physically possible. And we wanted to order pizza and see who could eat a whole one the fastest and we wanted to go swimming in the ocean someday away from all this fucked up shit. We were really fucking stupid. But I still wanna do that shit. You want to?”

Ian’s head was pressed into Mickey’s neck as he kept breathing, fainter and fainter with every minute. But somewhere in there he realized all of the things they hadn’t done. Mickey hadn’t taught him how to drive stick yet. He hadn’t taken him to see the stars. They hadn’t fucked in their first car, or got their first bed, or even gotten their own apartment. He hadn’t finished high school or figured out what he wanted to do after that. And he thought to himself, as the warmth of Mickey’s body was torn from him that he still wanted to do all of those things. But the fog of his depression was suffocating him.

The last thing he felt was Mickey’s fingers leaving his. He told himself to keep breathing in hopes that maybe Mickey’s touch might find him again. Even as it all went black.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

It was too bright. That was his first thought when he made it through the fog. So much darkness for so long had left him used to it, and the light felt like an intrusion. He didn’t know how to say that though. He felt like he was rising to the surface, but he’d already run out of air. The result was him flailing and struggling his way through the water. And when he did break through he gasped loud and wonderful not knowing if he’d ever take another breath again. At the same time his body was conflicted and he couldn’t figure out if he was angry or relieved.

“Ian? You awake?”

“Too bright.” His voice sound raspy and foreign to him. He wondered how long he’d been out.

“Told you to turn the fucking light off.” He muttered triumphantly.

_Mickey . . . Mickey. Mickey. Mickey. MICKEY!_

His fingers reached out blinding towards that sound, eyes forcing themselves open as he finally broke free.

“Mickey.”

His fingers found skin and then he was grabbing, grabbing hard until he was sure he couldn’t pull away.

“Mickey.” He repeated, dazed.

Fiona snorted. “Nice to see you too sweet’ems.”

Before he knew it he was smiling so hard it hurt and he just wanted to be closer, wanted to feel Mickey’s heat once again.

“You’re here.”

“Yea so are you, thank fucking god.” He sighed fingers brushing Ian’s hair back.

“About that, Ian we need to talk to you.” Fiona said.

Mickey shook his head quickly interrupting. “It can wait. You just woke up, it can wait. Why don’t you go get everyone tell them he’s up.”

She stared at him for a second as if she wanted to fight it, but chanced a glance in Ian’s direction and gave in. Leaning over his body she kissed his forehead softly, and Ian keened leaning in to the touch.

“You scared the shit out of me. And we’re gonna talk about it.” She whispered voice thick. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

And then she was gone taking her quivering voice and tears with her.

Ian’s eyes were still on Mickey ignoring everything else about the things around him. It was just Mickey and him just like always.

Mickey’s fingers were soft continuing to push at Ian’s hair until the strands moved in the direction he wanted.

“Tell me I look sexy with my hair pushed back.”

Mickey snorted hand tightening around Ian’s. “You’re such a fucking dork.”

“How bad is it Mick?”

He heard the sharp hiss as Mickey took a deep breath and knew it was bad. Mickey looked tired, bags adding up by the dozens under his lids. He looked sallow too, like maybe he was sick or wasn’t eating. Ian yearned to reach out and touch him and make all of things go away. But he had a feeling his wounds were much worse.

“We’re not gonna talk about that right now. Your family’s gonna come in here and you’re gonna hug and make up with them. And I’m gonna stand here as your friend okay? I’m your friend right now, and I wanna help you so no matter what happens when they come through that door I want you to remember that we’re best friends and I never wanna hurt you in all of my fucking life.”

“But wait Mickey what does that—”

“I wanna help.” He insisted effectively cutting him off.

And then the room filled with people and Mickey moved back letting everyone crowd Ian’s bed. He hated it. He hated the space between them and he wanted to understand.

His family engulfed him and as much as he loved it, as much as he loved seeing them happy despite the tears in their eyes he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. How could his family be there if he didn’t see Mandy? How could it be called family without Mickey by his side? Where were the people who took care of him and loved him? It was frustrating the hell out of him.

Lip was especially confusing, tears running down his face red and sad and angry as he hugged Ian viciously. Carl and Debbie just kind of curled up into his chest. Liam played with his hair and Fiona just kissed at his cheeks like he was five. And something about it made him feel annoyed. Something about them being there felt fake, felt forced. It didn’t make him appreciate it any less, but waking up alive definitely made him incapable of dealing. He didn’t wanna deal anymore. He wanted to feel happy.

“Mickey.”

It came out as almost a whine and he shifted uncomfortably in his bed, his body broken and fragile. He wanted the things that made him feel good not the ones that had left him all alone.

He reached his hand out lazily waiting for him to cross the room and take it. He could feel the shift of energy in the room as Fiona and Lip watched them, but he was oblivious. The only thing he could feel was Mickey’s skin on his.

“Debs why don’t you take everyone to the cafeteria, get some lunch. We’re just gonna talk to Ian for a second.”

The smile wasn’t genuine and Ian didn’t care.  He managed to give the same brittle shift of his muscles to his siblings before turning back to Mickey.

“I don’t understand. I wanna go home Mick.”

Mickey smiled sadly taking his seat beside Ian’s bed.

“I want that to . . . But you hurt yourself. And you did some pretty… symptomatic things.”

“What’s going on?”

“Sweetie,” Fiona interjected taking a seat at the end of Ian’s bed. “the doctor is gonna explain most of it. He’s on his way now okay?”

But he just kept looking at Mickey sitting sad and defeated like a dog with his tail between his legs. He could feel his heartbeat rising. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

A nurse in the corner that he hadn’t noticed before stepped outside as the doctor came in. He struggled to pay attention, to understand.

“Ian Gallagher you are a very lucky man.” He said peering at a clipboard in front of him. “You’ve had four blood transfusions and thirty six stitches. We pumped your stomach and you’ve been asleep for a little over two days now. You’re currently under suicide watch and it is my understanding that when you are released from the hospital you will be immediately admitted for psychological evaluation and at least a sixty day stay in a mental institution judging on the results of that evalutation.”

It was ironic really how everyone refused to look at him. Mickey. Fiona. Lip. Even the fucking doctor kept his eyes on his notes. His fate was being sealed away without any explanation and he couldn’t get a single person to look in the eye.

“Mental institution? Fiona what the fuck?!”

She flinched at the sound but Lip was backing her up, and when the two of them were together they couldn’t be stopped.

“Buddy we gotta get you some help okay? The shit you’ve been doing? It’s not normal, Ian. You’ve been living your life without any thought of the people you’re hurting. I mean doesn’t that sound familiar?” Lip probed.

Ian shook his head turning to Mickey who just looked defeated.

“Mick I wanna go home. Look I’ll quit the club. I won’t stay out anymore, I promise. We can find some other way to get the money.” He insisted.

Mickey looked up at him, blue on green and sighed so heavily it hurt. Yet when he looked at him it was the same. He knew that he loved him and that he cared. But now the look was tainted with sadness and he had not a clue of what he’d done to make him look like that.

“Hey no one wants you to come home more than I do. I thought we could handle it but we can’t Ian. You’ve got a mental disorder I think. Cause I gotta believe the person I fell in love with wouldn’t hurt me like that on purpose. I gotta believe that everything you’ve done wasn’t you. You’re seventeen. Fiona’s your legal guardian. What she says go, and I have no say. But I promised you I wouldn’t let you be like her, and this is me keeping me that promise.”

His voice was soft and sweet and so sad. And maybe that was the beginning of him realizing what he’d done. There he was in a hospital on suicide watch with a heavy thick gauze wrapped tight around his wrists. There he was with the people he loved telling him he’d been destructive, telling him he was turning into Monica. And he wanted to fight them, he wanted to tell them that they were wrong and he’d just been trying to make everyone happy. But how could he fight them when they all looked so tired and miserable? How could he fight them when everything they were saying was true? The voices that had told him to do it were gone, and in the end it was him who had to deal with the consequences.

“I wanna sleep now.” He mumbled turning away from everyone.

“Yea, okay.”

He felt Mickey kiss his hair before standing up and his heart did something sporadic in his chest.

“Hey, you’re gonna come back right?”

He looked over at Fiona and Lip before smiling down at Ian. It was the first genuine smile he’d seen since he woke up.

“Fuck yea I am. Go to sleep freckles. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mkay, I love you.” He mumbled rolling over.

It occurred to him that Mickey never said it back and that didn’t sit so well with him in his dreams.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“Mickey we talked about this.” Fiona sighed. “It’s what’s best for Ian.”

“No you talked. I only agreed to the fucking mental institution. If he wants me here I’m here. It ain’t fuckin up to you princess.”

“Hey!” Lip argued.

“Oh fuck off Phillip you haven’t even spoken to him in months. I think the two of you are a little butt hurt that the first thing he wanted when he woke up was me. Not you, and not you. Me. Because I fucking took care of him when you didn’t. And if you think I’m gonna step aside and let you take all the fuckin glory you’re wrong. He’s my fucking family and I’m not going anywhere.”

He shoved past the two Gallaghers leaving them with their mouths agape while he went to have a cigarette. Leave it to him to fall for a guy with the most annoying fucking family of all time.

Fiona had wanted him to steer clear, give Ian space and all this other bullshit. She thought that Ian was in there because of him, he knew it she didn’t have to say it. They’d argued the entire time he was out. She wanted the lights on because Ian liked the sun, Mickey wanted them off cause Ian got grumpy when he first woke up. She wanted two pillows he wanted three. She wanted to do the mental evaluation at soon as he woke up and Mickey fought like hell for them to wait until the suicide watch was lifted. It was stubborn as all fuck people insisting they knew what was best.

And maybe he wouldn’t have been so fucking angry about it if she would’ve tried to hear him out. She looked down on him now; she looked at him like an enemy instead of what he really was. He just loved him. He just wanted to fucking help. And god was he tired of being treated like a monster because of it.

“Hello?” He mumbled lifelessly into the phone.

“Mick? Is he okay?”

It was Mandy, and he felt himself deflating against the concrete wall at the sound of her voice.

“Yea he woke up today. He’s scared and tired and confused. I could probably use your help over here. Fucking Gallaghers have been busting my nuts all day.”

“You sound tired too.” She murmured.

“Well I fuckin hate hospitals. Jackass wouldn’t even wake up and talk to me so I’ve been spending my nights with the wicked witch of the fuckin east.”

She giggled. “I requested my day off for tomorrow, so I’ll be there. We’ll take on the witch together . . . You okay Mickey?”

“Fuck no.” He chuckled wetly. “They didn’t even wanna let me see him. I gotta keep fighting just to be in the same room as him. They didn’t even find him Mands I found him. I took care of him till the ambulance came.”

He fought to breathe eyes stinging with the tears he hadn’t been able to shed. He was a wreck that first night, just staring at Ian and crying, crying so hard. Then he just sealed it up, so no one else could see how much it hurt, how affected he was. Remembering hurt. It hurt like a bitch, but it didn’t feel like he had a choice anymore. It was like that day was just permanently etched into his brain.

“I know. I know it’s probably really fucking hard, but I’ll be there soon. You gotta remember that Ian knows. And when he’s better and this is all over, he’ll know you were there when everybody else wasn’t. Just remember that.”

“Alright.” He mumbled flicking at nose.

“Alright jackass go take care of our ginger idiot I’ll be there after work.”

He smiled, happy as hell that she couldn’t see him in that moment. She gave him the motivation he needed to face that wild haired doe eyed freak, and tiny dick Lip. Or to completely sneak around them and get into Ian’s room without having to talk to them at all. You know, no biggie.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“Jesus Christ!” Mickey jumped spinning around to see Ian “You trying to give me another heart attack?”

“Oh. Yea suicide attempt and surprises not the best combination huh?” He mumbled.

“What are you doing up? The doctor said you should rest.”

Ian swallowed squirming in his bed. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to know if what you said earlier meant that you didn’t love me anymore. I mean that would make sense. I would understand that… because I hurt you. Maybe I’m more like Monica than I thought huh? Just going around hurting the people that I care about. The people that I love.”

He wiped miserably at his tears, eyes lingering on his wrists as Mickey made his way over.

“Scooch the fuck over, giant ass.” He muttered crawling into his hospital bed.

“Miiiiick.” He whined.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Shut up already. Look I’ve been dealing with your fucking brother and sister for the past two days and it sucked ass. In fact it was probably top five worst experience of my life, and I was raped by a prostitute in front of you and my homophobic dad. Why the hell would I still be here if I didn’t love you?”

Ian turned so that his head was on Mickey’s chest and sighed.

“I just thought that you didn’t wanna be with me anymore. You said you were here as a friend. And you’re the bestest friend I’ve had in my whole life, but I want my boyfriend.”

His fingers moved through Ian’s hair soft and methodically and Ian practically purred at the touch.

“A lot of shit went down Ian. I need a minute before I go that deep again. I gotta know you’re gonna stick around.”

He nodded softly. “You wanna yell at me?”

“Oh definitely. These walls are pretty thin though. I figured I’d just take the ole Milkovich way of bottling everything up and drinking myself into a pit of despair.”

“Hmmm I think I’d rather you just yell at me.”

“I’m not gonna yell at you Gallagher.”

“Why? Because I slit my wrists open? Took a bunch of pills?”

“Don’t.” He mumbled looking away.

“No because I’m not doing this shit with you.”

Ian pulled himself up stepping out of the hospital bed on wobbly legs to put some distance between the two of them.

“Ian what the fuck are you doing get back into bed.”

“No! You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to treat me like I’m broken, like I died in that goddamn bathroom Mickey that’s not fair!”

“Fair? You wanna talk about fair? What about any of this is fair? It’s not fair that you fucking cheated on me with god knows who doing god knows what and then slept in my bed every night. It’s not fair that your fucking mental process to help make yourself less of a burden was to kill yourself when the one goddamn thing I ever asked you to do was stay! All I ever wanted was you you fucking asshole and you tried to take yourself away. You were gonna leave me behind and now your fucking family looks at me like it’s my fault. Like I’m not dying over here. I watched you bleed out on the bathroom floor and I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. Now you’re here and there might be an explanation so fuck you for expecting me to treat you the same alright? Fuck you Ian!”

They were standing there staring at each other, Mickey panting and Ian softening. They were both just scared people wanting to be loved and wanting things to be normal. But everything was about to change and if they didn’t have the other maybe nothing would ever be the same.

“I need you.” Ian whispered arms wrapping tightly around Mickey. “I’m so scared Mick and I just can’t do it without you.”

“Christ Ian I’m not going anywhere.” He replied shakily.

He gripped him on the neck softly moving him down closer to his height as they hugged fiercely. Ian shriveled up in his arms shoulders shaking as the tears escaped.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“It’s alright man. But you can’t fight us on this. I need you happy and healthy so you gotta do it. Do it so we can leave this shitty town together. Do it for me. And do it for yourself cause you fuckin deserve to be happy.”

His fingers wound around Mickey’s waist and he felt like he was using all the energy he had left. But he’d do it. For Mickey.

“Okay. Just as long as you stay and don’t let my fucking family run you off. I want you here above everyone. You deserve to be here.”

“Okay.”

They hugged each other rough and gentle all at the same time doing their best to take each other’s pain away. It was hard. To love and care for someone. It gave them the power to destroy you, to make you weak and vulnerable. But in that moment, for the two of them, it was a chance worth taking. Sometimes it’s better to be hurt than to feel nothing at all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hitting such a rough spot with this fic. I feel like you guys aren't enjoying it nearly as much as you once were. I've lost nearly all of my consistent commenters. And my inspiration is just lacking. I don't really know where i want this to go or where you guys want it go. i don't know. i just don't know. I hope maybe i'll figure it out. But for now i just hope someone enjoys this chapter. Thank you so much for reading :)


	12. Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is seventeen. Mickey is nineteen. Ian begins his stay in a treatment facility and has to make some choices. What kind of life does he want going forward? Who are the people that are gonna make living with bipolar disorder easier? Mickey does what ever it takes to be a part of his recovery despite the forces against it. The most important thing, for what feels like the first time, is Ian. Ian's health. Ian's happiness. Completely and fully Ian.

 

Ian is still seventeen when Mickey gets to visit him for the first time. He’d been diagnosed with bipolar disorder type one with psychotic tendencies and paranoia. It was a lot to understand, for someone to sit you down and tell you the person you’ve known your whole life is different now. He couldn’t imagine how Ian must’ve felt. And that’s all he’d gotten, was the possibility to imagine. Fiona refused to give him access to Ian, and he had a feeling Lip had something to do with it as well. After the suicide watch and the mental evaluation that had confirmed that Ian did in fact have a mental disorder, he was shipped off to one just out of the town’s limits. He’d refused to go any of the institutions Monica had been in and with her fucking history that left their options limited.

“Look Mickey I know that you care about him, I understand that, but you’ve got to put yourself in my shoes here. Ian runs away and all I get from him is money for the bills in big wads of cash and I don’t know what to think. Then I find out right before weird things start happening that Lip had to take him to the clinic to get checked for STDs? Because you cheated on him? Everything that’s gone wrong, everything that’s been building up recently was at your hands.” She told him.

And he . . . what’s the word . . .oh right, exploded.

“Fuck you, you miserable pretentious bitch! Let’s not forget the reasons he ran away in the first place. Let’s not forget the nights he spent crying because fucking Einstein over there was the only one in the family worth anything. Or because you couldn’t see that he was unhappy, because no one ever fucking looked deeper. And now after everything you wanna place your blame on me so you don’t have to think about the fact that maybe you’re the reason he did it? I’m not letting you put that shit on me. What he and I gotta settle, we’ll settle ourselves but good fucking luck keeping me away from him. That ain’t a battle you’re gonna win.”

And quite frankly underestimating the Milkovichs was a mistake that constantly worked in their favor. It wasn’t even hard. Mandy just had to ask Debbie which place Ian was being held at, when the Gallaghers visited, and what were the other available times to visit. And then on a Saturday they made a little trip up to visit Ian and if the shaking of his hands was any indication, Mickey was a smidge bit nervous. That is of course why Mandy did the talking. Men are quite useless ninety percent of the time.

“Hi we’re here to see Ian Gallagher?”

“Names and relationship to the patient.”

“Mickey Milkovich gay lover and Mandy Milkovich best friend.”

Mickey hissed shoving his sister roughly at her idiotic comment.

The woman at the counter looked up at them with an unimpressed look, causing them to stare back with sheepish smiles.

“I have a Mickey Milkovich here listed by Fiona Gallagher as not allowed under any circumstances.” She read.

Mickey’s heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest. The thought of not seeing Ian hurt and he reached out for Mandy’s arm to steady himself.

“However we at Options like to actually give our patients options and they are given the say in who can and cannot visit them as long as it is cleared by the doctor overseeing their care for the duration of their stay. His list permits both of you to visit; I’ll have a nurse see if he’s up for a visit right now. “

“Jesus lady you gotta learn to lead with the good news.”  Mickey sighed clutching at his chest.

“My brother is in the midst of a beautiful love story. Two southside gays kept apart by their families. Will they manage to hold on to their love? The world may never know.”

“Yea she can stay outside.”

They waited on a bench Mickey with his legs spread and knees bouncing as he struggled to breathe properly and Mandy looking at him with a mixture of concern and pleasure at watching him squirm. He hadn’t seen Ian in two weeks and the poor bastard was on the verge of losing it. She a little nervous that if they didn’t bring him out soon enough he might through another bitch fit. So of course they brought a doctor out instead of Ian.

They were lead to an office where a woman sat, petite and smiling with big doe eyes that were a little overwhelming at first. Mickey didn’t care much; he just wanted to see Ian.

“Mr. Milkovich I’m Dr. Adams and I’ll be handling all of Ian’s medical proceedings during his stay here. I just wanted to take a minute to talk to you before your visit today.”

“Why? The nurse told me I was good, I just wanna see him.” He muttered.

She nodded smiling at if she knew. “And you are, but I give all the family of my patients a run down before we begin treatment so that they know what to expect. Now Ian is having a good day today, his moods have stabilized and that is the perfect time to really begin his treatment. The hardest part of what we do here is getting the patient to believe they have a problem. It’s very easy to believe that you’re fine and it’s never gonna happen again or it was just a onetime thing. I just want you to know that Ian hasn’t fully accepted his disorder yet, so although today may be good and even the visit after that he’s still got a ways to go.”

It wasn’t difficult to understand. She didn’t want him to get his hopes up and think Ian was better when he without a doubt told him he was. What he didn’t know was that she’d already had a couple sessions with Ian and the constant piece to getting him to stable out or peak out of his shell was to talk about Mickey. She’d already connected that Ian would listen to Mickey and vice versa. So telling him that they were still in the beginning trials of treatment meant that Mickey wouldn’t accept Ian’s insistence that he was fine.

“Alright great. Can I see him?”

“Of course.”

They were lead into a separate room known as the sitting room, and Ian was brought to them. It wasn’t strait jackets and muzzles like they might have expected. In fact Ian was in his favorite sweatpants and one of Mickey’s shirts. But all of that was irrelevant the moment they saw each other. Mickey had been fighting watery eyes all fucking morning but there was never a rougher moment than that one right there.

He yanked Ian by his hips quickly attempting to wrap his entire body around him. His entire being flooded with relief when they were touching. Mickey didn’t know whether to pull away and look at him, make sure he was okay, or keep him there in his arms forever. There was warmth and love and liberation swirling all around their heads. The freedom to see each other and just be together was early over whelming.

“Fiona tried to stop you from coming.” He muttered still not letting go. “I told them to call you. I wanted you two fucking weeks ago.”

Mickey chuckled voice watery. “We’re Milkovichs, we know how to get into shit.”

“Too long.”

Mickey sighed hugging tighter. “I know.”

“And I guess I’m just chopped fucking liver over here.”

“MANDY!”

Mickey grumbled quietly as his boyfriend left his arms to go hug his sister.  He lifted her off the ground causing her to giggle and squeal before hugging him fiercely.

“Are you doing okay? Please tell me you’re feeling okay.” She whimpered.

He squeezed her reassuringly. “Yea I’m okay. Missed you guys.”

“Missed you too. You gotta take care of yourself in here okay? Cause if you think I’m living with Mickey’s ass by myself you’re crazy.”

“Aye fuck you.”

Ian smiled happily. “You’ll come?”

“Sure. Only once you’re ready though alright? It’s time to take care of yourself and stop worrying about everyone else.”

“Mkay.”He mumbled softly into her shoulder.

They sat down at the table in the quiet room a guard outside the door but otherwise alone. Mickey and Ian sat with their chairs as close as possible touching each other subconsciously throughout the entire meeting.

“Are you alright?” Mickey breathed fingers skimming Ian’s cheeks.

He nodded softly. “I leveled out. They let me do my own thing at first and now I have to like do activities and stuff but it’s not so bad. The doctor is nice. I keep telling her I’m fine and she keeps digging and psycho-analyzing my whole life. It’s kinda like a vacation.”

Mickey’s fingers tightened around Ian’s and he shook his head.

“Ian come one you know that’s not true.  You can’t resist treatment you promised.”

“I know, I promised I would go through with it and I am, but Mickey I feel good now. Not overly good either. They gave me some pills to help me sleep.  Maybe that was my problem.”

“Oh yea, you cheated on me because you were tired! That makes so much sense Ian thank you.”

Ian looked down cheeks reddening with shame and Mandy suggested they talk about something else. It was a good visit because Ian was good and that mood reflected on both of the Milkovich siblings. Seeing him, knowing he was okay made Mickey relax just a little bit. He hadn’t hurt himself and he seemed to be in good hands, so if he couldn’t take care of him himself he was glad that’s where he was.

When it was time to go Ian gave Mandy a tight hug kissing her cheek and letting her walk out the door. He reached out for Mickey pulling him close and hiding his face in Mickey’s chest.

“Are we gonna be able to move past this?” He asked.

Mickey sighed fingers coming to rest at the nape of Ian’s neck.

“It’s not about me accepting that you cheated and you’re sorry alright? I got that. This is about you accepting that you’re bipolar. And that you’re gonna have good days and bad days. But if you don’t accept your disorder than there’s nothing to keep you from doing the same thing all over again . . . And I can’t do that. You promised you would do this if I stayed right? Well I’m gonna be here every fucking day they let me. The only thing you gotta do is sit down and try and rationalize how you’ve acted. And when you can’t just listen to the fucking doctor and see that there’s something wrong. She’ll help you okay? I can’t help you with this, you gotta do it on your own.”

“But you’ve always helped me. Even when I didn’t want you to. You’ve protected me since I was five. I don’t know how to do it without you.”

“Maybe this place is good then. I can learn how to back off and you can learn to walk on your own. We can both learn to walk on our own.”

“Okay.” Ian mumbled nuzzling himself deeper into Mickey’s arms. “Just keep coming back. No matter what.”

“I will.”

They pressed their foreheads together looking into each other eyes. Mickey hadn’t kissed him since before the hospital and he missed it, missed the “I love you”’s and the cuddling and the sex. God did he miss the sex. More than anything he just missed being able to be with him. And at Options Treatment Facility he felt like he was being kept from that.

“Go do something fun huh?” Mickey smiled kissing on the forehead as they detangled.

He sighed. If that was all he got it would have to be enough.

“Yea okay.”

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

The Gallaghers visited Mondays and Thursdays. Mickey visited every day of the week. To the point where the lady at the counter would have his visitor’s pass ready for him when he got there. With Ian not at the club and the scams running low he was unfortunately working at the Alibi, and would always ditch to have lunch with Ian. Kev and Vee had the twins, and Mickey needed the money. Plus he was pretty good at kicking drunks out on their asses, so they let him stay.

Some days were really good. Ian would laugh and make corny jokes and hit on Mickey so hard it would be cringe worthy with anybody else. But as time progressed, and Ian continued on this journey of self-discovery, there were bad days. Days where Mickey would go to visit and Ian wouldn’t get out of bed. Days where he’d come and just sit there, staring at Mickey like he was looking through him. Days where he would cry and get angry and tell Mickey that it was stupid, that it was his fault for letting his family put him in there. His doctor explained that they were working with meds to figure out which ones would work specifically for Ian, but Mickey didn’t give a shit. If Ian didn’t get out of bed, he’d have the nurse just make sure he knew Mickey was there and then he’d sit till their usual time was up and go home. If he was angry he let him yell, if he was sad he let him cry. He’d promised he’d be there. So he was.

Meanwhile for Ian it was exhausting. Some days he didn’t wanna get out of bed for “recreational activity slot 1”. Some days he was tired of fighting, of trying to force his body to behave the way it had on its own for nearly seventeen years before. He was angry and upset and scared on those days. Dr. Adams would call him in and he just wanted to tell her to fuck off. Especially in their therapy sessions when she would try to discuss things that made him uncomfortable.

“Let’s talk about the family situation.” She smiled reassuringly.

He shook his head following their protocol. “That makes me uncomfortable I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Why does it make you uncomfortable? You see them twice a week.”

“They don’t . . . understand me.”

“You’ve said that before. Is it all of your family or just certain members?”

He shrugged. “Fiona and Lip. We grew up together the closest I guess. But I was youngest and things got crazy with our parents when I was still pretty young and Fiona had to step up to the plate. That meant Lip had to kind of take Fiona’s roll as oldest sibling and she just always like our mom. But there wasn’t really anywhere for me to step up to, and when Debbie and Carl were born they were the babies. There wasn’t really anywhere left for me to go.”

“And that hurts right?”

“I never really minded. I kind of liked being able to fade into the background. That doesn’t mean there’s not a rift between us because of it. Don’t try and act like you know everything about me because you’re my sibling that’s not how it works. I just wish they didn’t try to act like they gave me all this attention when they didn’t. Mickey was the only one who ever really paid attention.”

“Mickey was your friend growing up correct?”

He nodded eyes on his hands. “We met when I was five. And he’s been there ever since. He knows me better than I know myself.”

“Is Mickey someone you think you can trust with your mental health when you leave here?”

“Of course. He’s the only reason I’m here. Fiona used him to convince me to come and then tried to stop him from seeing me. When in all reality the only reason I willingly talk to my family is because Mickey begs me to. I know that if I fuck up again he’ll bring me back. Or worse he’ll leave me.”

“Being without Mickey is worse than being stuck in here?”

“Definitely.”

She nodded continuing to mark things in her notes before giving Ian her full attention again.

“Could you maybe explain why that is for me?”

“He’s the only one who’s ever tried to convince me that I’m better. He thinks we don’t make sense because I’m this unworldly creature or something and he’d just a stupid Milkovich. I know that when I’m with Mickey I’m loved and I’m . . . taken care of. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted. When I’m in here there’s nothing to stop me from being my Mother. Just another patient in a psych ward. He makes me different. He makes me better.”

“Alrighty.” She smiled softly.

In her notes there were big block letters with a circle encompassing them. They read: Mickey = Home.

The acceptance that he was in fact bipolar was a hard one. And there were days where he still wasn’t sure. He’d ask her if maybe there was another explanation, if maybe he’d just kind of lost it for a bit, but his doctor always reminded him of his symptoms. That quickly became the If. If he didn’t take his medication this might happen. Or if he didn’t take care of himself and love himself this might happen. It was a matter of coping for him and of understanding. It also helped that meds were beginning to work.

“So Zoloft seems to be doing the trick for you in terms of keeping you out of that depressive zone, and you said after we took you off of Clozaril and adjusted the dose of Ablify you stopped feel drowsy, but you said the lithium wasn’t working; is there any specific reason why?”

His cheeks immediately heated, no doubt burning red and bright. He wouldn’t look in her in the eye and as a professional that was really all she needed to know.

“What is it Ian, you can tell me?”

“Well it uh… it stops me from getting it up.”

“Oh. By getting it up I assume you mean you are unable to achieve erection while on the medication?”

“Ugh, God, must we?”

“We must.” She chuckled. “So what you’re telling me is your mental health is important you, but you do not want to sacrifice your sexual pleasure, and that is absolutely okay. We’ll try something else.”

And they did. They went tinkered and messed with his meds until **_he_** was satisfied. Things were beginning to get better. She kept telling him how strong he was and how he was becoming his own person. For the first time in his life he slept on his own, he did things for himself, focused on him. It felt good. It wasn’t easy, but the payout was worth it. He’d been at Options for a little over a month when she came to him before lunch with that face that said, “I’m about to make you do something you don’t wanna do but you’ll thank me later so do it.”

“How about you come eat lunch with me today. I’ve got some people here who wanna see you.”

She led him to a room similar to the quiet room, but this time a guard didn’t have to be with them. Then again see as Mickey was in the same room as his brother and sister, he was questioning why they hadn’t added a security guard.

“What’s going on?” Fiona demanded.

“Please everyone have a seat. Ian was about to have lunch so I figured he and Mickey could eat while we chat.”

“You know Mickey?” Lip asked.

Mickey who had been standing in the corner with his arms crossed the entire time softened as Ian came closer to him.

“Brought you Chinese.” He mumbled shyly. “Extra eggroll too.”

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.”

He said the same thing every time Mickey brought him food. And Mickey gave him the same smirk before handing over the food. Only this time with everyone staring at them, he wasn’t exactly willing to eat his meal too.

“So, I wanted all of Ian’s family here today so that we could have kind of a group session to get to the bottom of some of Ian’s fears. I think a lot of the stress and anxiety that he feels stems from his relationships with the very people in this room. And the tension between you all is limiting his recovery.” She explained.

Fiona glanced at Ian who was shoveling noodles into his mouth while Mickey chuckled softly at him.

“So if this is a meeting for family why is he here?”

Dr. Adams sighed. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I want us all to come to an understanding today that Mr. Milkovich is a part of Ian. He is just as much his family as you are, and if you love and respect your brother than you should respect their relationship.”

Ian froze watching his therapist take on his siblings. If he thought she was amazing before, in that moment she was practically superwoman. A part of the problem was that Ian didn’t really know how to stand up to Fiona and Lip. They were his older siblings and he respected them. He loved them endlessly. Often times his respect stopped him from speaking his mind, and in turn he just grew to resent them. He didn’t wanna do that anymore.

“Sweetheart we do respect your relationship. Mickey’s like a son or a brother to me too he’s been there so long. But this isn’t about Mickey, Ian, this is about you and your safety and your health and how we as a family are going to deal with that.” She murmured softly.

Ian set his spork down shaking his head softly. “You can’t say you respect us and then talk about him like he’s not even here. He’s right next to me. He’s my family too. He’s as big a part of my life as you guys are. We were gonna . . . we were gonna live together before I messed it up. Before I messed us up.” He paused to chance a look at Mickey. “I want him to be the one to take care of me. I wanna rely on myself and my partner. I’m not a kid anymore Fi.”

She exhaled reaching her hands out for him pleadingly.

“I know you’re not. But doesn’t that plan sound a little rash? Like maybe something you decided while you were manic? I just want you to be safe Ian.”

Everyone watched as her words settled in his brain affectively causing him to stop and rethink all of his life decisions in a matter of seconds. Was anything him? Was anything his choice or was it all ruled by the chaos in his brain? Mickey’s hands turned to fists and he was about to snap when the doctor beat him to it.

“No. Fiona we will not use Ian’s disorder against him as a means of getting him to side with us. That is cruel and abusive and I won’t tolerate it.” She chastised. “Ian you do not need validation for all major life plans. You told me how you opened a bank account together right? You were saving money; you were gonna live with Mandy too to keep her away from Terry. That’s not the disorder talking that’s you.”

Ian nodded softly keeping his eyes on the table as he groped blindly for Mickey’s hand under the table. He felt weak in that moment. And being weak in front of all of the people he cared about was a feat all on its own. In the midst of his own crippling anxiety it was Debbie of all people who spoke up.

“I don’t think it’s fair that you guys treat Ian the way you do. You act like you’re trying to do what’s better for him but really you’re just doing what’s better for yourselves. It’s not like him loving Mickey means he doesn’t love us. I like Mickey. He’s protected Ian since I can remember and he helped me and Carl whenever we needed it too. Hell, he helped him better than we did sometimes cause we were too wrapped up in our own stuff. I don’t think it’s so bad that Ian starts his own life just as long as we get to be a part of it. I just want see him be happy.”

Ian’s head had snapped up and at some point his eyes and nose started to burn. Debbie was his little sister and he loved her so fucking much. The lack of connection with his family sometimes made him feel like none of them understood but that wasn’t exactly the case. At the end of the day they were still Gallaghers and Gallaghers stuck together. Hearing Debbie talk like that gave him faith that they always would.

Carl snorted softly. “She’s kinda right. Mickey taught me how to beat up kids bigger to me to make others fear me. He got me through fucking middle school. And Ian’s shown me all his army techniques and he helped me with my homework even when I didn’t wanna do it all. They’ve always been a packaged deal. Don’t really see why that would change cause of some dumb disorder.”

The wise words of Carl fucking Gallagher.

Mickey watched as Ian threw his arms around his younger siblings the whole time fighting tears and sobs. His heart warmed at the sight, not because they accepted him but because he knew better than anyone how important Ian’s family was to him. Sure he complained about them and argued with them, but he was always going to be devoutly towards them at the same time. He loved them and he cared about them and he believed in them. The only thing he’d been asking for was a little bit of that in return. Sometimes when you’re the one person in the family that’s got it, and can handle life on your own, all you really want is just for someone to tell you, “it’s okay, take a day off, I got this.”

“Mickey you’ve been very quiet. Don’t you have anything you’d like to add?” Dr. Adams asked.

With all eyes on him he fought the urge to cower into Ian’s side and hide forever. He hated public speaking.

“Uh thanks for not hating me?” He shrugged toward the younger Gallaghers.

Fiona groaned. “We don’t hate you Mickey.”

“I kinda do.” Lip interjected.

Mickey flipped him off, but Fiona ignored both of them turning towards Ian and Mickey with her hands in a surrender like gesture on the table.

“I just want my brother healthy and happy. I’ve taken care of you your whole life okay? I fed you and I bathed you and I tucked you in at night, and now you’re telling me that you don’t need me. And that someone else is gonna do my job because I wasn’t good enough. And that sucks Ian, cause I tried really fucking hard.”

Ian, who had all but ignored his food at that point pushed it away to grab Fiona’s hand.

“I’m not replacing you Fi. It’s not one or the other it’s both. You did everything for me and I’m grateful I’m so damn grateful. You gotta let me grow up though. You’ve done your job, and I’m still gonna need you. Just a little bit less now.” He insisted thumb running over hers.

She deflated a little seeming to pout but slowly accept.

“Yea okay. It’s gonna take some getting used to is all. Maybe we could have lunch together some time.”

He smiled reassuringly. “Of course. You can come eat with me and Mick anytime.”

“Ah fuck.” Mickey mumbled.

“ANY. Time.” He emphasized before turning to his brother. “And you just gotta stop being a dick.”

“Have you met my father? It’s in my blood.”

“That and an incredible alcohol tolerance.” He said causing the Gallaghers to chuckle.

Meanwhile Dr. Adams was fucking beaming at her incredible patient. Mission accomplished!

As everyone packed up to go and Mickey was about to take his uneaten food with him to the Alibi, Ian was trying to get his confidence back up. His meds were good, and he was back to jerking off into socks to the thought of Mickey bent over a kitchen table they would steal together for their first home. The actual nature of their relationship was still up in the air. Mickey said he wanted to be there for him as a friend, and he needed Ian to be mentally stable before he got in too deep. Ian loved Mickey like the very air he breathed and all he wanted was just to be with him again.

“I’m gonna wave you from your number four slot to finish eating, but then you need to get back into routine okay?” Dr. Adams offered

“Uh huh, will you excuse me?” He mumbled stocking off after Mickey.

His family was still in the room, probably waiting for their goodbyes but there was a very pressing matter that needed to be handled first. He wanted to kiss Mickey Milkovich’s face. He felt butterflies in his stomach that had been clouded by anxiety and mania but the fucking sun was out. He was gonna kiss that man. He was gonna put his face on his face and do stuff with their lips. YES.

“Hey man I’m glad—”

And there it was. In the middle of the sitting room Mickey was dipped like a fucking chick in a romantic comedy as Ian completely dominated his mouth with his tongue. And boy did that feel fucking amazing. In a world where he couldn’t jerk off enough, couldn’t finger anything to get relief, and yearned to cuddle the shit out of his ginger tree, that kiss was the best thing ever. As he wrapped his arms around his neck fully giving himself into the kiss, he thought to hell with it. Let ‘em watch. Ian tasted really fucking good.

Ian panted happily against Mickey’s lips. “I’m sorry that I hurt you. This is me talking. I’m stable and I’m acknowledging that I hurt you and that what I did was wrong. And I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I wanna be with you Mickey. Friends. Boyfriends. Lovers. All of it. You’re it for me.”

What was he supposed to say? I’m totally head over heels in love with you but I don’t wanna be with you so let’s just do some more of that kissing stuff? Being with Ian made him happier than anything else in the world. Even when it was hard it was good, and he’d rather take on all of Ian’s hardships than even begin to touch the one of them not being together.

“Took you long enough.” He smirked.

“Yea, come ‘ere.”

They then proceeded to make out to the extreme delight of Dr. Adams and Debbie and the extreme discomfort of everyone else. Except Liam and Carl, they were probably both thinking about something simple like food or tv.

“Alright, visiting time is up let’s go Milkovich.” Fiona insisted pulling him away from her brother.

He threw a harsh glare her way and Ian almost doubled over in happiness. He could only hope that this was the beginnings of a very troublesome, mostly one-sided friendship. And yet they said Gallaghers don’t do therapy.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

“Ooooo Mickey I’m so glad you’re here; can I see you for a minute in my office?”

Mickey groaned. “If you got more fucking Gallaghers in there, no. I hate therapy.”

“Don’t worry no more therapy sessions, for now. Promise.” She grinned. “Ian will be there.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “Yea, okay.”

Ian was sitting in her office playing with his fingers and looking down like he did when he was nervous. The second he saw Mickey though he smiled, though a more appropriate term would probably be beamed, and Mickey was sure his cheeks actually reddened. Suddenly being dragged to her office didn’t seem so bad.

“Hey.” He murmured softly.

“Hey.”

“You okay?” Mickey asked taking the seat beside Ian and thumbing at the fabric covering his torso. “Nice shirt. You bring any of your own clothes?”

Ian chuckled softly looking down at it. “I’ll give it back, promise. Doesn’t really smell like you anymore. I need more material.”

“I’ll bring you some more, stops me from having to do laundry.” He smirked. “You good though?”

“Yea, yea I just needed to show you something and Dr. Adams is gonna help me out.”

As if that was her cue she took a seat at her desk producing a folder and handing it directly to Ian. He seemed nervous again, like he was mentally preparing himself for whatever he was about to say. Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to keep his cool. Whatever it was was important and he wanted to give Ian the respect of not completely losing his shit.

Ian took a deep breath before handing Mickey the folder.

“When I first came in, one of the things they ask bipolar patients is, were they sexually active during their manic phase. And because I was and because . . . I can’t remember all of them,” He paused for a second taking deep breaths. “they tested me. And I want you to have the results so that you know that I’m serious about us. I want to start gaining your trust back so we can like move forward when I get out of here.”

Mickey eased his fingers over the soft Manila paper wondering what exactly he would find. The nerves inside of him fluttered excessively but looking at Ian told him that one of them needed to be clam in this situation and it most definitely wasn’t going to be him.

He smirked softly running his thumb in soothing circles along Ian’s wrist.

“How many times you sit in here practicing that speech?”

Ian deflated slightly a smile coming to his lips. “I have a surprising amount of free time in a psych ward.”

“Ah, ah, ah we are not psych ward.” Dr. Adams scolded playfully.

Both boys rolled their eyes completely in sync and she wondered if any one couple could be that perfect for each other.

“Look whatever it says we’ll get through it. Alright?”

“Okay.”

He opened the folder never letting go of his hold on Ian’s wrist. There were three columns: one with the list of different STDs/STIs (most of them ones he’d ever heard of), one that negative, and one that said positive.  He appreciated that it started with HIV and Aids and that there was a very distinct check in the negative column. He also appreciated that the positive column was completely empty. He didn’t mean to look so incredibly relieved but . . . shit thank god his boyfriend was clean.

Dr. Adams smiled. “Now Ian did get lucky, and you’re not guaranteed to contract STDs every time you have unprotected sex, but it’s very important that you are practicing safe sex at all times. I want my patients safe and healthy not just with their mental health, but their bodies as well. And Ian is doing a great job of making sure he puts himself in a position to do that.”

After that she might as well have been talking to a wall. It was clear that the two just wanted to be alone. Ah, young love.

They kissed now. In fact most of the time Ian would wait until the guard had his back turned and yank Mickey into his lap so they could fool around for an hour. Mickey very rarely actually ate with Ian. They missed each other like crazy. And knowing that even if they were in it together, even if Mickey would wait for him, this is what they were limited to for now meant they took full advantage. They may have been growing up but they were still very much young and reckless with their love. Now that recklessness was just a little more structured.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

Mickey was on his way home from Options. He’d finished work at the Alibi and had ignored all calls and texts to just spend time with Ian. Of course by all calls and texts he meant Mandy, and by spend time with Ian he meant make out with him, but that’s neither here or there. He had a hickey at the base of his throat that he could feel without touching, and a smile so bright on his face it seemed to illuminate the path ahead of him. In that moment he didn’t care that he was going back to his shitty home in his shitty town only to watch shitty tv while he thought about Ian. He was just happy. And that’s the only thing that mattered.

So maybe that’s why it happened that night. Because every time Mickey was even remotely happy one person yearned to ruin, yearned to ruin him. Maybe he should’ve expected Terry to get out earlier than his sentence stated. Just like bad shit happens to good people, sometimes good shit happens to really bad ones. Turns out all the texts and calls he’d ignored from Mandy were warnings that Terry was out and on the hunt. That night, walking inside that house, was like serving himself on a silver fucking platter. The hunt was over. It was time to go in for the kill.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

Mickey was late. Ian had been sitting in his room waiting for one of the nurses to come get him for the past hour and he didn’t. Then he got yelled at for being late to one of his activities, but he’d missed lunch. It left him grumpy and angry and a little sad. Mickey had never missed one of their meetings. Even when Ian was too low to come see him, the nurses always told him Mickey was there for him. He couldn’t help but wonder what had changed.

“Ian, you have a visitor!” Nurse Tammy smiled.

Ian beamed following her to his and Mickey’s usual spot only for Mandy to be standing there waiting for him.

“Hey Mands what are you—what’s wrong?”

She was crying, tears smudging her usual flawless smoky eye and he hated it, hated to see her upset. He hated the feeling in his gut that something was wrong even more.

She threw her arms around him hugging him tight. In that moment he felt kind of bad. All the talk of families and who was his family and who wasn’t he’d left out of one most important people of all. Mandy.

“Terry got out. I—I tried to warn him and he wouldn’t pick up the phone. He wasn’t answering I tried so hard Ian.”

His body froze while his heart hammered fearfully in his chest. He couldn’t get vivid thoughts of Mickey bleeding and bruising out of his head. They were supposed to protect each other. Mickey was hurt; he could feel in his bones.

“Where’s Mickey? Mandy where is he?!”

“I took him to the hospital for his ribs and he ditched me before I could even find out what the doctor had to say. I thought maybe he came here. He’s not answering his phone or anything.”

“Did you check at my house?”

She paused. “N—No. I thought he hated your family. No offense.”

“None taken. We had a heart to heart of sorts. Just go see if Fiona’s heard anything. And call. I can get calls until lights out.” He explained.

She gave him a hug and left only for him to realize that his hands were shaking, that he was scared for Mickey and he wanted him there with him desperately. It was kind of a huge test for Ian. They’d agreed that they needed to learn to walk on their own and be their own person. Ian struggled immensely with the super-hero concept though. He had to fix things, he had to help people, and he had to do something that went beyond himself, beyond what he was. And he loved Mickey . . . so fucking much that he needed to save him. But this time he couldn’t. That scared the ever loving hell out of him.

When Mandy called he was contemplating begging one of the nurses to get Dr. Adams on the phone. Mickey was okay. He was sleeping in Ian’s bed. Fiona promised they would drive down to see him the next day and that was all he had to get himself through the night, was the knowledge that if he slept he would see Mickey sooner.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

“Name and relationship to the patient?”

“Fiona Gallagher, sister and legal guardian.”

“M—Mickey Milkovich, boyfriend.”

Fiona sent him a little bit of a smirk and he wasn’t sure if the whole rolling your eyes thing was as effective when one of them was swollen shut. She was trying to be more understanding and helpful, no doubt because of Ian and the fact that he’d shown up on her doorstep bloody bruised. He didn’t really care either way. Ian was his main priority.

And apparently he was his, because they didn’t even have to wait to see him. Ian had convinced one of the nurses to let him wait for Mickey, because of the circumstances, and the second he saw him he was up and running towards him with all his might gripping Mickey tightly in all the right places. Even though he winced from pain he snuggled deeper into that touch, into the feel that was purely Ian. God he loved him.

“You’re not going back there ever. You hear me? Never again.” He mumbled whiny and pouty and demanding all at the same time.

Cute ass Gallagher.

“Okay.”

Ian released him only to take his face in his too big hands and look him over.

“Are you okay? Goddammit Mick why didn’t you stay at the hospital? This precious face is practically mangled.”

“Yea and holding onto it like it’s a fucking rock ain’t helping Ian jesus.” He winced. “Look I can’t afford no hospital bills right now. I got a plan. You don’t need to worry about me right now, just focus on yourself and getting out of here.”

For the first time he chanced a glance at Fiona with pure disbelief on his face.

“Do you hear this? Do you hear what I have to deal with? What is this plan let me hear it.”

“None of your business. Calm your cute little head and come visit with us.”

Ian raised an eyebrow. “You really think my head is cute?”

Fiona snorted and Mickey found a way to roll his eyes.

“Fucking Gallaghers.”

They sit there together talking about home and simple things. Like Debbie doing well in the school and Frank trying to make his own alcohol. Ian told them a little bit about his recovery, but he mostly just like to talk about the outside. He liked to hold onto Mickey and lean into Mickey and nuzzle him incessantly. It made him feel like he wasn’t losing his mind all over again, it restored some sense of normalcy.

Ian would get out just as he was turning eighteen and Mickey wanted it to mean something. He wanted things to be different when he got out. No more fagbashing fathers, no more cheating, no more fighting over pointless shit. He just wanted time to be Ian’s and nothing else. Maybe it was time to stop letting the hand he’d been dealt affect how he played the game. Maybe it was his time to just be open and free and scream fuck you to the world. He was tired of being punching bag. He just wanted to be free. And he thought that maybe he finally knew how to do that.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I feel the need to tell you that every single one of you that stopped and commented on the last chapter are beautiful little clouds of fluff and i love you very much. A couple people thought i was mad just over comments and that really wasn't it, though i can see how maybe it came of that way. Truly what i meant was that i'm struggling with the story, i just kind of had some writer's block where i have no idea where i wanted it to go. That's my shit though not you guys. What i meant about the comments was that some people, and by some i mean a lot, who commented every chapter at the beginning of the story had stopped completely and my thought process was just that they stopped reading. I don't wanna come across as whiny or as someone only looking for number count of readers cause that's not it at all. I just want you to be happy with the story. People who told me to write it for me, well that's cool and all but i want people to enjoy my story. So though I'm always writing for me first, you guys are constantly in my mind, and to me that's not a bad thing. 
> 
> The feedback i got was incredible. Silent readers just poking in and saying "hi i exist and you're cool keep going!" People that do read and just told me take my time and do what's right. I appreciate it so much. You're all beautiful and amazing and i appreciate just that one comment. I really hope you enjoy this chapter and i really hope you enjoy this story.   
> Thank you so much for reading.   
> You know where to find me.   
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	13. The Best End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is eighteen. Mickey is twenty. Ian gets out of treatment just in time to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. He's clear headed for the first time in months and he finally sees just how badly his actions affected the people he loved. Luckily Mickey has a plan. A plan to show him just how happy he can be if only he just stays with Mickey. It might be the most romantic plan of all time.

Ian is eighteen when Dr. Adams tells him she’s done all she can do for him. His meds were balanced, he’d been stable for almost three weeks, and he’d genuinely come to terms with his disorder. It was hard, but he knew he had her to thank, had a world of people to thank for getting him to that point. He didn’t take it for granted, and he was really fucking happy.

“I’ve spoken to your family and Mickey. There’s no reason you can’t be released this week. It’s time for you to get back into the world again.” She smiled.

He took a deep breath trying to deal with the information.

“Wow. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

“Oh that’s easy. You’re gonna live your life freely and happily, and I’m never going to see you inside this center again. This disorder isn’t the end of the world Ian, and it isn’t the end of you. I want you to remember that your recovery is yours, and every hurdle we’ve gone through together I was simply just along for the ride. You’ve done this. And there’s no reason you can’t do it moving forward.”

He nodded eyes stinging with happy tears. He wasn’t Monica. He wasn’t destructive and he didn’t want to hurt people. All he had to do was take his meds, and build his life again. It sounded scary but he knew that he could do it. For the first time since West Point had fallen through he felt like he could walk on his own two feet. He was strong. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.

“Thank you.” He sighed hugging her close as their final major session came to a close.

“No problem. It was truly an honor to work with you.”

He dashed for the phone pressing the all too familiar number that he’d dialed time and time again those past few weeks.

“Yes Freckles?”

Ian beamed. “Mickey I’m getting out. Dr. Adams said there’s nothing left for me to learn. I’m balanced, I’m healthy and I’m taking my meds. I get to come home.”

“I heard. We’ll be there to get you on Wednesday, and we’re gonna celebrate the big one eight alright?”

“I hope there’s a celebratory blow job in there somewhere, I haven’t been this blue balled since you got sent to juvie.”

Mickey snickered. “Fuckin’ dork I swear. Why don’t you just jerk off like a normal person?”

“I tried!” He insisted in a whiny tone sorely reserved for Mickey. “I’m surrounded on all sides by people with bigger issues than bipolar. The day we kissed I tried to jerk off and the guy across from my bunk was rocking back and forth talking about how God didn’t like what I was doing and how Mother told him so, over and over and over again. Besides I have big balls they need to empty out at least three times a day.”

“You’re a full time job you know that?”

“Yea, but I’m kinda worth it right?” Ian smiled.

“You’re kinda worth it. I kinda miss you too, but if anyone asks I don’t.”

Literal sunshine and rainbows burst from within his soul. Ugh he loved Mickey Milkovich.

“I miss you a lot. And if anyone asks I definitely said that and also I love you.”

Mickey’s cheeked burned on the other side of the line.

“I gotta keep working but uh you wanna talk for a while? It’s the alibi so I should get away with it. Kev and Vee are still arguing over her tits.”

Ian settled into his seat playing with the chord and try to keep his smile from affecting his voice.

“’Course. How are my favorite twins anyway?”

They buckled down talking for hours when it only felt like minutes. Mickey had already visited that day, but he’d driven Debbie, Carl, and Liam as well so their time wasn’t as nice as it usually was. There was so much he wanted to tell him, so many things he wanted to share and couldn’t. Really he just wanted to be with him. He wanted to hold Ian again and touch his hair, trace his lips and his eye lids. He wanted to listen to the steady thump of his heart with his head on his chest counting freckles with his tongue. He wanted to do very gay things with him for as long as he’d let him. He was also horny as fuck so if anyone asked his views were cloudy.

“You got a lot of makin’ up to do when you get home Gallagher.” He mumbled locking himself into the bathroom.

“I know, I know. I’ll be making it up to you for the rest of our lives.”

Ian was so not with the picture yet.

“Yea? Kinda want you on your knees. You look good on your knees.”

“Mickey?”

But he continued on as if he was oblivious grabbing himself roughly through his jeans and wishing desperately that it was Ian’s hand.

“Mouth is so pretty when it’s sucking me down.” He grunted.

“Oh my god you cannot do this to me right now.”

“You should be here. I’ve been home at night practicing. Keeping myself worked open for you. Waiting. Three sometimes four fingers. Two’s never enough anymore.”

Ian peered around as nurses and patients walking around like nothing was fucking happening. Like Mickey fucking Milkovich wasn’t having phone sex with him right now.

“We’re a little older now; I think we got good at it. I miss how you used to pound me so good too. When you fucked me like you hated me. Fuck I miss you.”

“I—I’m gonna come home soon Mick, just wait.”

Mickey groaned fingers already in his pants. “I can’t wait. I’m hard and I’m horny and fucking empty. I want you and you’re not here.”

Only Mickey Milkovich could only say how he really felt when his hand was on his dick.

“Are you touching it?”

His voice was desperate and airy, as all the blood began to run downwards and Mickey only hardened in response.

“Yea. Wish it was you. I want you to touch me.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Mickey moaned. Mickey moaned and it genuinely almost killed Ian. There was nothing hotter in the world than a moany mickey moaning mighty moans in Ian’s ear. Alliteration. Yes.

“What else do you want Mick?”

Pre-cum and skin are audible on the line, and it drives Ian fucking mad. He can see it. Mickey’s fingers rough and callused sliding over his hard on. Fuck U-Up becoming nothing but a blur of black and his hips start to stutter and his face is all flushed and he’s rushing towards the finish line cause that’s just the kind of guy Mickey is and it’s everything Ian wants. Fuck.

“I want you to fuck me. I want you to bend me over and take me from behind till I can’t fucking breathe. Oh god Ian. So fucking close.”

Mickey panted into the receiver huddled over as he worked to get himself off. And Ian was just stuck on the line listening to the most beautiful sounds come out of the love of his life. He didn’t know whether to be angry or happy. Mickey made that decision for him.

“Oh fuck that was good!” He panted with a bit of a chuckle. “Sleep tight freckles I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And then he hung up leaving Ian’s mouth agape and his dick . . . ahard. He had never loved and hated Mickey so hard at the same time in his entire life. Asshole.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

“Alright in here is a thirty day prescription of your Zoloft, Ablify, and Lamictal. I want you to work on getting insurance as soon as you can, but for now I’m gonna give you a list with generic versions of the medications. I also included information on applying for social security benefits with your disorder. If for some reason you have a bad reaction to those, call me and we’ll figure it out. Okay kiddo?”

“Yea alright.”

He felt like it was freshman year all over again and he was stepping into some place new, when really he was just going back home. He had to start his life again, live out in the world and away from Options. It was a scary thought, but a worthy one.

She gave him a hug and made him promise to call her if he needed anything. And he would. Because sure maybe he did it on his own, but she had helped. She never judged him for what he did or looked at him like he was crazy. She told him he wasn’t like his mother, and even better she helped him to believe it. He didn’t know what he’d have done without her.

Dr. Adams led him outside in a much better place than he was coming in. Before he had been cloudy and feeling a million different things all at once. Now he just felt ready. He felt like maybe he didn’t know who he was quite yet, but that he knew he could figure it out. And he knew he could do it by himself, for himself. That was really important. But when he walked outside and saw Mickey Milkovich leaning against a beat up Chevy with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his hair gelled back, he knew that just because he **could** didn’t mean he had to. And that was the most important thing of all.

The second their chests touched he knew that his heart was whole again, and that it was completely and exclusively Mickey’s. They were together and he was out and he wasn’t ever gonna do something to jeopardized that again.

“Where’s everyone else?” He asked eyes resting on Mickey’s lips and fingers clutching at his collar.

“They’re letting me give you your birthday present. You wanna take a ride with me?”

Ian nodded softly. “Kinda wanna kiss you first.”

“Yea, okay.” Mickey mumbled.

There is most certainly a difference between kissing the love of your life in a dreary, gray building where you are forced to focus on your mental health all day, and kissing the love of your life outside in the fresh air(as fresh as Southside air ever is anyway)against a car you’ve never seen before as your first taste of freedom. He felt immensely light weight. That feeling of floating off into space with his arms wrapped around Mickey fluttered terribly in his stomach. He loved it. He loved the warmth of his lips and the wet dragging domination of his tongue. Kissing him was like the first rain of spring. Refreshing and oddly beautiful.

“Where’d you get the car?” Ian asked climbing into the passenger seat.

Mickey shrugged as the headed away from Options. “Guy owed me a favor, gave me a deal on it.”

“Wait you didn’t steal it?”

“No! But thank you of thinking so highly of me Gallagher.” He muttered.

“Sorry.” Ian mumbled shoving himself closer to Mickey. “I think really highly of you.”

Mickey sighed eyed him with a gulp but otherwise kept his eyes on the road. Ian; however, continued to push, lips touching Mickey’s ear and fingers gripping his groin.

“I really missed you.”

“I am in the middle of driving Ian.” He griped.

“Then pull over Mickey.”

Mickey chanced one glance in Ian’s direction and was already pulling the car over. Ian worked fast tugging at his belt and zipper to get to the thing he’d been missing for months. He was clear headed, in fact he’d never felt clearer and Ian Gallagher was clear that he wanted his boyfriend’s cock.

“Jesus Ian.” He mumbled fingers falling to Ian’s wildly over grown hair.

He bobbed enthusiastically re-familiarizing himself with that heavy weight on his tongue. It was frustrating how much he just wanted to touch him and feel him, but couldn’t because of the stupid fucking clothes that surrounded him. But he settled. Settled for Mickey pushing his head down farther and moaning into the stale cigarette infused air. Settled for Mickey telling him he sucked it good, that it was so fucking good. He swallowed around him fighting the gag and digging his fingers into his denim clad thighs. Pleasuring Mickey was pleasure within itself and he couldn’t refrain from wanting to do it for the rest of forever.

Mickey collapsed against his seat as Ian swallowed his load like it was fucking nothing, blood pumping and heart spazzing in his sternum. He’d missed a lot of things about Ian Gallagher and that right there was definitely top five.

“So . . .  where are we going?” Ian grinned licking the left over traces of cum from his lips.

Mickey glared at him from his seat still struggling to catch his breath after Ian’s blatant jackassery.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m an asshole for missing my extremely sexy, wildly forgiving, and sometimes scary boyfriend? Okay.”

He stalked forward again this time wanting something softer. They spent the next thirty minutes making out like the teenagers they were. Well Mickey was technically twenty, but nothing made him feel more like a teenager than Ian sucking hickeys into his neck while they dry humped each other like dogs. Good times.

“Goddammit now we’re behind schedule because of you.” Mickey muttered pulling the car back onto the road.

“I’m a growing boy babe. I have needs.” He smirked.

Mickey rolled his eyes but suddenly softened as the realization hit of where he’d just come from.

“You good?”

Ian reached out intertwining their fingers on the seat with a content sigh.

“I’m good. I feel better than I have in a long time actually. I feel myself.”

“Good. You gotta stick around for me. I want you around . . . or whatever.”

Ian slid across the seat of the truck again leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I will. Promise.”

They drove for a while in a very content silence. Ian had missed the wonderful lull of Mickey’s breathing and it made him feel content and happy. He was glad that his family had given them that time to be together. He was glad that they’d realized that it wasn’t about choosing between his life with them and his life with Mickey, it was about figuring out what life he actually wanted. He’d never fit completely in with the Gallaghers. There was always something that made him different. And he loved them, he’d do anything his family, but if there was one thing he’d learned in the midst of his mental breakdown was that sometimes it’s okay to be selfish. It’s okay to only do the things you want to do for a little while. It’s okay to be happy.  And there just wasn’t anyone in the world who understood him and made him happier than Mickey.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Uh Mick can I ask you a question?”

“What is it?”

Ian stared as the “You are now leaving Chicago” sign rushed past the window.

“Where in the hell are we going?”

Mickey smirked. “To your birthday surprise. Did I not mention this is a road trip?”

“No you didn’t. I’m guessing you didn’t mention it to my family either, and I don’t really want a full fledge Gallagher-Milkovich war.”

“I’ll have you know I did tell them and everyone was on board. Fiona practically insisted. You weren’t the only one learning how to change.”

Ian smiled at the thought of his family’s acceptance, at the thought of the people he loved growing to understand.

“But wait I gotta take my meds three times a day.  And I can’t take them on an empty stomach.”

“I know that. Dr. Adam’s gave me the full run down. Food and drinks are in the back. Even got you a health smoothie. I’ll wait for my best boyfriend ever trophy in the mail.”

And just like that they were off. Mickey had filled the back seat with snacks and bags that Ian assumed had clothes in them and they just drove. Sometimes they listened to the radio, but more often than not they just talked. Ian was still a chatty fucker and he worked relentlessly to get Mickey to laugh. The truth was they hadn’t genuinely hung out in months, even before the suicide attempt and it felt good. The sense of pride that Mickey felt every time Ian smiled was overwhelming. It felt good to just see him be okay.

So they drove with Mickey trying to read instructions and getting frustrated and Ian just laughing at him because he sucked ass. But it was fun. They ate Cheetos and drank lukewarm sodas while laughing about the past and maybe the future. It was fun. They were fun. And that’s when he saw it.

In Collinsville, Illinois rests the world’s largest bottle of ketchup. Now was Ian Gallagher aware of this fact? No. Was it still the most amazing discovery of all time? YES!

“Is this you being romantic right now? Is that the world’s largest bottle of ketchup up there? Mickey I can’t breathe this is too much excitement for one day. My heart can’t stand it!”

And then Mickey watched in delight as his boyfriend jumped from the car and demanded they take several dozen pictures in front of this amazing attraction. For a second he was reminded of the very freckly, over energized dork he met when he was seven. And he couldn’t have been happier about it.

“Did you get a selfie stick?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “No. The fuck I look like buying a selfie stick dumbass.”

“Miiiiiick! How are we going to take amazing angled selfies with the world LARGEST bottle of ketchup without a selfie stick?”

“Oh my god I swear I missed you for a total twenty minutes. Use your long ass arms and take your damn selfie.”

Ian pouted. “Fine but if I find a selfie stick in a gas station on this road trip it’s fair game. And goddammit Mick you better smile.”

And that dear friends, is how they went on to have a picture of them in front of a gigantic bottle of ketchup with Mickey’s arms crossed and smiling the fakest smile in all of human history. What a beautiful moment.

Casey, Illinois had a lot of large things. The world’s largest wind chime. The world's largest Golf Tee. The world's largest knitting needles. AND the world’s largest Crochet Hook. Ian had never been so proud of his state in all of his life. Seriously. Illinois sucked but look at all of those oversized inanimate objects. Priceless.

By the time they had seen all of them and gotten all the pictures that Ian’s heart required the sun had sunk low and heavy in the sky burning every corn field they past with its wild embers. It’d been a long day and they hadn’t even left the state yet when Mickey pulled into a hotel for the night. Ian realized that for the first time in a long time, he would share a bed with Mickey again. And he made a vow to himself to cherish that, to cherish the right to sleep with this beautiful and wonderful person. He never wanted to take advantage of that again.

Mickey grabbed the bags setting them on the bed with a comforter that had a pattern that only belonged on an eighty-four year old woman’s couch as Ian took his meds with some fiber bar. It was his first time seeing him take them. Just a couple of pills, that was difference between the man he loved and the man that could rip his heart out. He didn’t know if they were really two people at all. Maybe it wasn’t so much his Ian and that Ian, but just one, one Ian that could do really harmful things if he didn’t take care of himself. But maybe it was just hard for him to think of Ian in that way at all. Maybe it was hard to know that Ian had been capable of hurting him and himself, and maybe he just wasn’t ready to looking at it that way yet.

Ian swallowed his pills down ready for the side effects it came with. He had time to come to terms with it. Mickey; however, had not, and when his hands began to tremble and shake he could think of no other thing to do in the world but a pull a chair of beside him and take those trembling hands in his own.

“Side effect.” Ian mumbled a tinged embarrass with himself. “Sorry.”

Mickey shook his head fingers running soothingly up his arm before slipping securely around the back of his neck.

“This is never something you gotta apologize for with me. You hear me? You don’t have to explain this; I just wanna help.”

Ian relaxed into his touch letting the final tremors course through him.

“Thank you.” He whispered.

Mickey nodded releasing his hand and taking hold of his face instead. He’d missed that face. The freckles that lit up his skin and the pink tinged of his eye lids. His skin was pale and soft, like foam beneath his fingertips. A strand of hair touched his forehead before Mickey moved it back into place.  His eyes were darker that day, more of seaweed twisting harmlessly at the bottom of the ocean. He looked soft and sweet, but at the same time Mickey was sure that he’d never looked stronger.

Ian’s eyes were on Mickey’s lips as they taunted each other each wanting the same thing, each wanting to touch and be touched on every part of their bodies.

The kiss was gentle. It was sweet and slow because they had time now. No one was gonna take them away from each other. Mickey didn’t let go of Ian’s face fingers tracing every smooth bump and curve of his bone structure. Ian’s hands were needy running over Mickey’s body like he was touching the curvature of a valley. He was beautiful. So much more beautiful than he realized. The freckles across his nose and the ride of his spin at his back. The softness of his stomach and the lines across his forehead. He was beautiful and amazing and wonderful. He loved him so much.

They shed their clothes like baggage, ridding themselves of all their hardships. Chest to chest. Lips to lips. The sucked at each other’s skin licking and biting as their breathing intensified. Oh did it feel good to be intertwined, to have legs knot together and hands squeeze at back sides. Shitty hotel lines might as well have been Egyptian cotton. And there’s so much you wanna say, so much you wanna share but that kiss is doing it for you, when you’re banded together by the pressing of your bodies it’s almost like you can hear each other’s thoughts. It’s magical. It’s euphoria.

And when it’s over Mickey grabs a cigarette leaning his head back again a pillow that’s almost as hard as the headboard pillow behind it. Ian, not be deterred, kept sucking thick heavy marks into his skin. He wasn’t done, and how could he be when the love of his life was naked next to him in a semi comfortable bed?

“Ian wha’cha doin?” Mickey asked.

He crawled so that his body hovered over Mickey’s fingers snatching his cigarette and taking a big puff. Then he put it out on the ash tray next their bed always moving closer.

“I’m gonna have sex with you two more times tonight. And none of them are going to be because of my disorder. This doesn’t get that part of me. This is yours. All yours and I wanna give it to you.” He mumbled.

Mickey didn’t say no and they did it three more times before passing out sideways on the bed.

Welcome home Ian.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

They get back on the road early in the morning. Mickey stops for gas and Ian’s big arms trudge all their new load of snacks to the register. They do NOT have a selfie stick however, and Ian is NOT fucking happy about it. With his morning meds and a hearty breakfast of a fruit cup and donut holes, Ian felt good. Felt ready to take on the world.

They make their way through Indiana and most of Columbus by midday. Even though Ian offered to drive Mickey said no because he didn’t know where they were going, and of course the asshole wouldn’t tell him where they were going. Not even a hint. It was maddening to say the least.

“I’m eighteen now Mickey. I’m a man. Keeping secrets is for children.” He insisted.

They’d stopped at a diner because someone, and that one someone may have been Ian, had to pee and that same someone might have whined until Mickey said they could eat there.

Mickey snorted. “You got a fucking milkshake mustache right now and you’re talking to me about being childish?”

Ian stuck his tongue out at him before lick away his milky facial hair.

“You’re mean.”

“Be still my beating heart. Unless you got anymore declarations of your love for me I kinda would like to actually get you to the surprise sometime this week.”

Ian bit his lip. “Can I take a picture of us drinking from my shake with two straws?”

Mickey huffed. “Is it going on onto one of those bullshit social media sites?”

“’Course not Mick I don’t even have any of those sites anymore.”

“Yea, yea, whatever. We’re doing it with mine though. Nasty ass strawberry shake. You can’t even eat junkfood right.”

So they took a picture of Ian making heart eyes at his boyfriend and Mickey flipping off the camera and he was pretty sure nothing summed up their relationship better. Then it was back on the road.

By the time they entered Pennsylvania Ian was officially antsy. He’d been back and forth in the car all day and he just wanted to know what the surprise was. Night enclosed around them as they drove, the night engulfing them until they were but a blur in walls of forest. It was so dark; Ian sometimes had to look over to make sure Mickey was still there. Pulling into Cherry Springs State Park didn’t really hold any significance for him, because he’d never heard of it before. So when Mickey grabbed a blanket and a flash light from the cab of the truck and took hold of Ian’s hand he still didn’t get it.

It took a while for their eyes to adjust and still they nearly got lost on the way. But eventually they found benches and a huge map that told Mickey where they were supposed to go. He led Ian to a massive field with telescopes of vary sizes and difficulty littering about. There were people there surprisingly enough but the field was so massive it could easily feel like you were alone. Mickey set the blanket down and took a seat like that was an explanation.

“Mick I don’t get it what’s going on?” Ian asked plopping down on the cotton covered glass.

“You said you wanted to see the starts didn’t ya? Look up freckles.”

When he did the results were amazing. The sky was clear leaving the plethora of tiny dots and clusters to light up the sky with brilliant beams of light. It was so dark your eyes could play tricks on you, but up in the sky was a personal night light. It was beautiful. It was everything Chicago didn’t have. He looked up at the constellations eyes moving slowly over every piece of the sky he could see. He felt like he’d been waiting forever for that moment. It was crystal clear, and so astounding. But what made the moment all that more special was sharing it with the man beside him.

“Can’t believe you did this.” He mumbled resting his head next to Mickey’s as they lay on their blanket.

Mickey shrugged. “’Snot like I created ‘em or nothin’. Just brought you to ‘em.”

“You remembered something I told you as a kid like five years ago. That’s amazing.”

“Just wanted you to be happy when you got out of there.” He said voice lowering considerably. “Wanted you to see that there’s so many reasons to stay alive, to stay with me.”

Ian looked over at him then, blue eyes still noticeable in the night. Mickey hadn’t brought up the suicide attempt since before Options. Ian had a feeling it hurt him more than he was willing to verbalize, that he probably took it personal even when he tried not to.

“Mick me trying to kill myself isn’t on you, you know that right? That’s not a burden you have to carry.”

Mickey nodded. “You still did it though. I don’t know what I would ever do if I lost you. So I wanna give you a life worth living, that okay?”

He wanted to tell him that that wasn’t the point. The state of his life wasn’t what drove him to do it. He was sick, he had an illness and he needed treatment. He’d gotten that treatment and suicide wasn’t something he thought about anymore, it wasn’t even a question. But the look in Mickey’s eyes was so serious and genuine. He just wanted to make Ian happy, and he didn’t see anything wrong with that.

“Yea. That’s perfect.” He sighed leaning in to press their lips together.

They lied there for a while looking at stars and making out. It was kind of the most romantic setting ever oddly enough, even though if you ever asked Mickey he’d swear against it. It was so dark he could get away with things and still pretend Ian wasn’t looking at him when he so clearly was. He held his hand intertwining their fingers and running his thumb in smooth circles across his skin. He laid his head on Ian’s chest tilting every now again to demand a kiss. And it was so simple for them. No talking. No nagging siblings or stress about money or whatever. They could just be.

“Before you start drooling on me, let’s go. There’s some bed and breakfast type shit around here somewhere.”

Ian yawned stretching his massive limbs everywhere before peering up at the sky once again.

“Wish the meds didn’t make me sleepy. I kinda wanna stay here forever. It’s beautiful.”

“Yea well we’ll put stars on the ceiling of our room or some sappy shit like that. Or just come back here.”

“Yea, alright.” Ian sighed heaving himself off the ground.

Mickey bent down to pick up their blanket and by the time he stood up Ian was already wrapping himself around him like a cocoon lips chasing lips.

“Thank you for this. You’re amazing Mickey.”

Mickey hummed in content. “You’re welcome. Happy birthday Ian.”

And a very happy birthday it was.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

One of the most amazing teenager-y romantical things to do in the world is the crash into a bedroom blindly with such an incomprehensible hunger for someone that you can’t look away from ripping their clothes off long enough to find a bed.  Ian laughed as they fell ungracefully to their tiny bed fingers tracing every dip and bump of Mickey’s body. He felt young. He felt happy. And he felt healthy. Those seemed like some the most important qualities a human could ask for in that moment.

“I love you.” Ian breathed painting the words along Mickey’s collarbone.

They were naked and touching each other and every touch felt remarkable, felt like a direct touch to the soul.

“You better take full advantage of this cause I will never be this gay, ever again.” Mickey smirked.

He chuckled. “I plan on it. We’re so gonna cuddle after we have sex. I’m gonna cuddle you so hard.”

“Your dirty talk could use some improvement.”

He took Ian’s cheeks in his hands pulling him close enough for another kiss. No matter how cute Mickey was being he was still an impatient little man and continued to kick at Ian’s ass until he took him like he wanted. Their legs formed intricate knots and Mickey would tug at Ian’s hair every time he hit something good. It was like their bodies were just conversing and it was wonderful and beautiful and he loved it.

“Touch me here.” said Mickey’s hands as he moved Ian to that spot.

“Harder.” moaned Mickey’s thighs.

“I want you.” was the breath that Ian breathed against his lover’s throat.

“Ian.”

It came hot and quick like a punch from Mickey’s throat. He’d hooked his ankles around Ian’s back and was currently digging his fingers into his hips in an almost angry fashion.

“IAN! Ian yes!”

And that right there is fucking beautiful. When someone experiences so much pleasure, so much infinite happiness that the way they feel can only be summed up in your name. When your name is encouragement, is satisfaction, is ecstasy.

It was in that moment that he knew that his brain hadn’t been right all those months. Because in that moment, in that very second where Mickey’s screaming his name his body just clenches and throbs as the most intense pleasure he’s ever known shoots through him. It’s Mickey. It’s him. And it’s explosive.

“Holy fuck balls.” Ian huffed collapsing on top of his boyfriend. “That was nice.”

“Like fuck that was nice. Top five performance right there. Get off me you fucking giant.”

“Miiiick I wanna cuddle.” He groaned tired and child-like.

“Yea well cuddling is the one activity you don’t get to top in freckles; now move I’m in the wet spot.”

It took a lot of kicking and a sharp pinch on his ass before Ian found the strength to roll over letting Mickey settle happily on top of him. He hummed happily nuzzling his face into Ian’s chest where he thought rest would press in on them quickly.

 

*ten minutes later*

 

“Miiiiiiiiick.”

“No.” He grumbled.

“It’s really important I swear!”

He groaned pressing his face into the warmth of Ian’s neck.

“What?”

……..

…..

…

“I love you.”

Mickey sighed. “I’m taking you back to the goddamn psych ward.”

Ian found this to be very funny. He wrapped his arms around Mickey settling in for the night before they would return to their normal lives the next day. He couldn’t have thought of a better birthday present. Or a better end to the night.

“Love you too.”

It was a whisper, but it totally happened.

That was the best end to the best night ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end end contrary to what the title might have you believe. This is actually a plan i've had for them since i wrote the chapter that Ian is sad about not being able to see the stars. I've always thought Mickey would be the romantic boyfriend that hates when people draw attention to the fact that he's romantic and i don't really care if people think that's OOC because to me it really isn't. I think Mickey loves Ian and would do anything to make him happy, including a road trip with all the things he loves but has never seen. I think this chapter was all about showing Ian the world(as much as a southside kid without a lot of money could)and it's all about showing him would could be. What they could have. IT comes from a place of fear after the suicide attempt and almost a kind of desperation, but it also defnitely comes from a place of love. Mickey Milkovich just wants Ian Gallagher to be happy. He wants to keep a smile on that stupid freckly face for always. This chapter just shows a bit of the extent to which he's willing to go to do it. And I promise this isn't the last you'll see of Mickey doing things simply to make his boyfriend happy. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are as always appreciated. 
> 
> I am also SUPER sorry i didn't post last night. I went OUT! Like out out! With PEOPLE! From my creative writing class! And we like . . . did things! That was a first. But still hope you love it!
> 
> you know where to find me  
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	14. Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is eighteen. Mickey is twenty. After the trip to Pennsylvania they have to come home, but home no longer seems to be on the southside in a house full of people constantly yelling and screaming. Home is with each other now. They make a big step in their relationship by moving in together and it's time to see how Ian and Mickey do on their own. Together of course.

He's eighteen and driving back home is good. Ian leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder as he drove legs stretching out against the dash. It was a long stretch of road that went on for miles and miles the sun appearing once again. It was kind of beautiful in the morning. With his meds down and the trembling sated he could just look out at the sky. There were so many colors mixing together like deep purples and bursting oranges. It was quiet except for the rev of the engine and he felt completely content. It was the best.

“So what are we gonna do when we get back?”

“Your family’s got something planned at their house. It’s supposed to be a surprise though so act surprised.”

Ian smirked. “You’ve been waiting to do that haven’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You okay with sharing my tiny ass bed for a night? We should go look for apartments soon though.”

“Yea about that…”

“What?”

“I did stay at your house. But I came to the realization that being in your house without you sucks ass. So I went and found a place. If you don’t like it we can move or whatever I just thought . . . I don’t know I figured maybe you were ready to start your life again outside of that place. Probably shouldn’t have assumed.” Mickey muttered.

“No you’re right. Is it a fixer upper? Tell me everything.”

He does. They talk forever about which floor their on and how the walls could use a new coat of paint. Mickey pulled some mover truck scams and kept some of the furniture for their place. They had a queen sized bed and a couch that didn’t look like someone had died on it. It wasn’t a dream home but it was there’s and Mickey had done all he could to make it feel like theirs. Mature Mickey was sexy as fuck.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

“Twenty on pump eight and uh a pack of Marlboro reds.”

“AND a glorious and wonderful selfie stick!” Ian grinned triumphantly practically throwing it on the counter.

Mickey snorted with a roll of his eyes. “Fine and a fucking selfie stick.”

“This is why you are the love of my life.” Ian grinned.

*thirty minutes later*

“IF YOU DON’T PUT THAT GODDAMN STICK DOWN I AM LITERALLY GOING TO BREAK IT IN HALF AND THROW IT ON THE FUCKING HIGHWAY!”

Ian pouted putting the selfie stick down.

“Meanie.”

So much for maturity.

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“Is everyone ready?! Debs how’s the cake coming?!” Fiona called. “Mickey said they’d be here by four!”

“Cake is done. Banner is up. Kev is making the burgers and stuff now. Relax Fi.” Lip soothed.

She shook her head continuing to pace. “This is our shot to show Ian that we can be understanding of him, of his disorder, and of his relationship. Which means YOU are going to keep your shit together. You’re gonna treat Mickey like he’s a god and Ian even better. I will not only see my baby brother on fucking thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Okay, okay jeez.”

“Carl! I want you down here and decent in two minutes!”

Fiona continued to pace around making sure all of Ian’s favorite snacks were out and ready. She had his present ready and her arms itching to wrap around her little brother. Not being there when he got out of the hospital was one of the hardest things she ever had to do. It wasn’t even about trusting Mickey. That was her brother, and as much as she wanted to respect his wishes her instinct was to protect, was to nurture. Fiona and giving space didn’t really go well together. But she was willing to try, willing to do anything to stay a part of his life, especially knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to keep an eye on him with his disorder if he wasn’t even under her roof anymore.

They waited, Debbie putting the finishing touches on the cake and Fiona pacing relentlessly and messing with everything in her path as she went.

“Fi they’re pulling up!” Carl called.

“SHOWTIME PEOPLE!”

They all moved to duck behind couches and stairs as they heard the front door begin to open.

“Mick, come on. Can’t wait to get my hands on that ass.” He purred. “Shove my big fat—”

Mickey rolled his eyes pushing him forward into the room. That was not what he meant when he said to ask surprised.

“oh god SURPRISE!” Lip groaned.

“SURPRISE!”

Ian gasped dramatically hands grabbing at his face like it was the most awe shocking thing he’d ever seen in his life. Mickey watched on as he hugged his family, quickly picking Liam up and popping him up on his hip. Vee came to stand by Mickey with a raised eyebrow peering back and forth between Ian and him.

“Is it really big?” She asked bluntly.

 “I don’t bend over for nothin’ under nine inches.” He smirked walking away.

“Damn.”

It was a nice fucking party. Fiona was trying so hard and it meant the world to Ian. She hugged him so firmly her muscles were literally tensing, and the smile on her face made him feel warm and gratified. Debbie and Carl grabbing him and looking so happy, Lip hugging him in his rough brotherly way, Liam giggling in his ear, it all just made him feel home. Being with his family and not arguing with them was the best feeling in the world. And then that ability to reach out and grab his boyfriend’s hand in the midst of it all? Fucking perfect.

“How was Pennsylvania?” Fiona asked wiping at his shirt which was absolutely clean.

“Pennsylvania?” Vee asked.

Ian cheesed widely. “Mick took me to see the stars. It was perfect.”

“Damn dirty white boy turned hubby material?”

He peered over at Mickey who was grabbing a beer and trying to take frosting from the cake while Debbie slapped his hand away. Dammit he was cute.

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And your meds? Are they staying balanced so far?”

Ian nodded. “I get the shakes sometimes and uh I’m a little disoriented for like twenty minutes after. But Dr. Adams worked with me to make sure all of the side effects were things I was willing to deal with. I’m okay for now.”

She slid her hand onto his cheek smiling softly. “Good. I missed you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

There was food and cake and it felt like a regular Gallagher shindig. He couldn’t drink but he didn’t really feel the need to. For the first time, even with the meds, he felt level headed and he wasn’t really willing to jeopardize that.

He kept Liam on his hip feeding him bites of a hot dog and talking to the family. And when he needed it, he’d go to Mickey and get a kiss or touch his waist or face. He was trying to give him space, but Ian could only go so long without him. He also took full advantage of his fucking selfie stick whether that asshole liked it or not.

“Hey.”

Ian looked up to see Lip with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hey. Mickey said you’re in school now?”

He nodded. “Mandy forced me to go before then breaking up with me. Apparently you’re not the only one I’m an asshole to.”

“Well that’s news to me.” Ian mumbled looking down at his food.

“Look I know I’m an ass. It’s fucking genetics. But I’m your brother and I’m here for you no matter what. If you wanna live in a fucking apartment with your gay boyfriend and my ex-girlfriend you should do that. I just want you to be happy. And if I went about it the wrong way I’m fucking sorry alright?”

Ian stared at him for a second chewing his food and swallowing.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve apologized like ever.”

“Yea well I don’t really wanna lose you anymore than I already have.”

“Awww bro.” He grinned.

“Fuck off man.” He chuckled.

“Let’s bro it out. Bring it in for a bro hug.”

Ian wrapped his arms around his brother against his will squeezing him tightly and nearly pulling him off the ground.  When he set him down Lip wouldn’t look him in the eye and he shrugged softly.

“I’m glad you’re okay. We fucking love you Ian, and none of us would be able to function if you took yourself away. If this is what you gotta do, I’m glad. I’d rather drive down town to visit you at your place than a cemetery.”

It was brash but it was Lip, and he appreciated it because he had an innate sense to sift through his brother’s bullshit, but he loved the fact that he was just honest with him. Did he hurt himself so everyone would give him attention, absolutely fucking not, but if there was a silver lining in any of the bullshit maybe it was that his family had gotten a taste of what life without him was like and they hated it. He’d spent a majority of his childhood feeling like a burden on his siblings and to have them literally tell him that wasn’t the case was all Ian could’ve ever hoped for.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked coming up behind Mickey who was attempting to get into the cake again.

He jumped. “Goddammit Ian. You’re like big foot how are you so quiet?”

“I’ve got stealth babe. I’ve got finesse.” He smirked wrapping his arms around Mickey. “And you need to stay out of my birthday cake.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “’Snot fair. All the food here are your favorites and you barely eat carbs. I want cake.”

He leaned in to press his lips against Mickey’s neck. “Can I have some of your cake when we get to this mysterious new home of ours?”

He snorted. “Could you be any cornier?”

“Probably. Everyone thinks I’ve kissed you and turned you into a prince or something. It’s kind of nice to see everyone think you’ve grown up. I think you’ve grown up.”

“I have. You’re trying to make an honest man out of me and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

“Oh but Mick that was my plan all along!” He joked. “Get you a business job working nine to five so you can wear dress shirts and ties. And then when you get home and you’re tired I’m there ready to rock your world and feed you dinner. What more could you ask for?”

“Yea okay big guy. If you’re gonna be my house wife how bout you get Orphan Annie part two to give me some cake.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Mickey was much happier with his big piece of cake. Adorable little thing he was. And Ian liked to sit next to him and lean on him and try and steal a bite just to watch him lose his shit. It was actually one of the highlights of his day. Nothing is more adorable than an angry man eating cake. Ugh.

“You got frosting on your lip come ‘ere.”

Then they were kissing. It started with a simple lick before Ian was dominating his mouth. Tongue and teeth and just a tiny pull at his hair. Boy did he love kissing Mickey. It was kind like the best thing in the world. Among other things.

“Yo go do your butt stuff somewhere else I’m eating.” Carl muttered from his end of the couch.

They flipped him off together Mickey bringing his hand around to cup at Ian’s neck. The gesture was warm and grounding and he loved every second of it.

“TIME FOR PRESENTS!”

Fiona flopped down on the couch instantly breaking Mickey and Ian up from their mini makeout session.  Ian whined and somehow got Mickey to sit on his lap enjoy the mortification on his face more than the actual lap sitting. Fiona went first handing Ian a thick envelope that didn’t take much investigating at all. It was full of money. He didn’t have to think very hard to figure out where it came from.

“Fi no. This money was for the house.” He muttered trying to shove it back towards her.

She shook her head. “It’s from all of us. We’re doing okay. I kept some of it for the squirrel fund, but my shifts are covering it. Believe it or not but you ditching us is one less mouth to feed. And we want you to be able to pay for your meds until you get back on your feet. Keep it okay?”

He sighed setting the money down but otherwise nodding.

“Thank you guys. Really.”

Debbie got him a yearlong membership at a boxing gym.

“Mickey told me where you guys live and the place I work at has one closer to you. I thought it might be good for something to focus on, like the doctor said right?

He smiled warmly reaching to hug her around Mickey which resulted in an awkward sandwich kind of a thing.

“Thanks Debs I love it.”

Carl simply tossed him a bag that was terribly wrapped in newspaper. It turned out to be a shit ton of weed. Mickey’s eyes lit up at the same time Fiona’s turned to slits.

“Carl I thought I said no drugs?!” She yelled.

He shrugged. “That’s a plant. It’s good for his health. Everyone knows that disorders get you weed cards. It’ll calm you down.”

“No, no, this is good. We were totally running low after the road trip.” Mickey smirked.

Ian chuckled. “Thanks Carl.”

Liam brought him a painting from school of him and Liam. He even drew Mickey, and made him shorter than Liam himself. It was genuinely an amazing present. He crawled up into Mickey’s lap and hugged them both. Ian thought maybe his heart would leap out of his chest because of it. It was his first time actually getting presents for his birthday that Monica hadn’t stolen or used all their money to buy. He was ecstatic. He felt like a little boy again getting the birthday party he’d always wanted. Only now he was a little older and a little wiser. And instead of punching Mickey’s arm playfully, he was sitting on his lap. In so many ways his light had dimmed since he was that little kid walking blindly through the world, but in so many ways it had brightened too.

Lip got him a 3D batman picture that changed from batman to the joker. Apparently moving on to chicks with dads who owned companies had its perks.

“You like batman right?”

Mickey snorted and they each exchanged middle fingers. Oh was it good to be home.

He thanked them all exchanging hugs and genuine smiled. The balls gave him gift certificate to their favorite sex shop, he was a man now after all, and he then proceeded to tease the hell out of his boyfriend over it for the next hour. It was a good Gallagher party. And quite honestly he much preferred being on good terms with his family than things being awkward. He would always be a Gallagher at heart. They would always be his family. But he couldn’t say it didn’t feel amazing to know that his family had grown.

“You ready to go?” Mickey asked later that night after things had settled down

Ian nodded smiling eagerly at the love of his life. And as if Fiona didn’t notice. She’d started to feel like she was messing with fate with those two. It was that look that he gave him. It was the same look he’d been giving him forever, even since they were kids. And the damnedest thing was watching Mickey give it right back. This goofy, wild grin that no one else could ever pull out of him. Not only was her brother in love but, the dirty little kid that’d been walking in and out of her house practically his whole life was in love with her brother. Fighting that, trying to stop that, wasn’t fair. If anyone deserved love it was those two.

“You call me you hear me? I wanna know everything. When you get your prescription settled and find your new doctor. When you cook yourself breakfast for the first time. I wanna know if the landlord’s an asshole and if your neighbors suck. If the toilet breaks.” She mumbled eyes thickening.

He laughed wrapping his arms around his big sister.

“It’s okay Fi. I’ll be back all the time. And I’ll call and text and skype if you want. Hell I’ll instagram you if you want.”

She giggled wiping her eyes on his shirt and nodded. “Good. And you, you take care of him or I will cauterize you with an iron.”

“Note taken.”

She sent them home with the cake, and enough food for a small army as if they didn’t have any food at home. When they left that night all of his family was sitting on the porch he’d been climbing his whole life. The same porch he’d stepped down and found Mickey angry and beautiful and short. Everything felt different that night. He was driving away from them, from his life. And yet it truly felt like he was going home.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

With their hands full they stumbled up the apartment 4B and Ian could barely contain himself. The thought of Mickey putting everything together for them was heartwarming and quite frankly a little frightening but he had faith in his boyfriend. (And faith in Mandy not to let him fuck anything up). And it really was kind of beautiful. Maybe that was just because it was their apartment that they were gonna share but he didn’t care. They had a living room with actual furniture. A kitchen with a pot and THREE whole pans. There were two bathrooms and two bedrooms. It was perfect for them.

The bedroom had a big expensive bed and Ian could only imagine Mickey trying to put sheets on it. They had a walk in closet and a lamp and a dresser. It was a nice big wide space for them to just be. The bathroom was also located in their room so there wouldn’t be any awkward run ins with Mandy. He liked it. He liked the simplicity and the miss match of it all. He just liked that it felt like home. Taking a look at Mickey collapsing on their bed he knew he would always be home when they were together.

He knelt down crawling gingerly on top of the bed so that he could lay his head on Mickey’s chest. It was silent, something entirely new for the both of them, and Mickey didn’t pull away from all his weight. His fingers came up his back soothingly before settling in his hair. He already felt comfortable and content. After the excitement of the trip and his huge birthday party it felt good to just lie there with his boyfriend and bask in the ambience.

“You really scared me for a minute there.” Mickey brought up quietly.

“Yea, I know.”

“It’s not your fault, I know it’s not your fault but I . . . I thought I lost you.”

His voice was shaky and though he yearned to see his face Ian kept still. Mickey kept moving his fingers through his hair sometimes tightening suddenly as he kept talking. It was just something he had to get off his chest.

“I’m glad therapy works for you, I’m glad that lady helps but that’s not my thing. I’m always gonna bury my shit deep down, it’s just who I am. I don’t know what kind of psychological shit it is, but I know that I’m really afraid of losing you.” His voice was definitely wet and his fingers couldn’t get any tighter. “I’ve been afraid since I got you, since you ran away when you were five and no one knew where you were, since I got tossed into juvie after my dad and I wasn’t there for you after your big math test and every time after that, since the fairytale and me waking up and you’re not there and that day in the bathroom. It’s terrifying. Y—You’re the only good thing I got and I don’t wanna put my shit on you but I need you.”  

It was quiet for a minute except for Mickey’s heavy swallowing and their shallow breathing.

“Are you ready to yell at me yet?”

His voice cracked. “No. Just wanna fucking hold you and not let go.” And if he lets a few bitter tears rolling down his chin during then so fucking be it.

That’s what they do. They kick shoes off and strip off jeans only to get under the covers and hold each other. Mickey’s fingers travel everywhere and if that’s what he needs Ian wants to give him that and so much more. Mickey just wanted to feel him, to move slow and thorough and know that Ian was all in one piece. He appreciated him and loved him that night. The scars that were angry thick lumps on his wrists. The freckles that were still there, still littering his skin. He’d taken Ian to see the stars and now it was his turn. Every brown flake was its own luminous ball of plasma held together by its own gravity. Every piece of him was its own galaxy and he was the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen.

“I love you.” He whimpered curling himself into Ian’s arms.

“Love you too Mick.” Ian vowed.

They curled in on each other grasping at limbs and nuzzling the hell out of each other. Maybe it hadn’t been what they’d expected for their first night in their new home, but maybe it was exactly what they needed. And it wasn’t until later when it’d grown dark enough for the moon to filter in through the blinds that Ian finally spoke up not even knowing if Mickey was still awake.

“I know sometimes it seems like I’m leaving. Like I stay away too long, or I get lost and we miss each other. I get scared and I run because it helps. But I always find my way back to you. I’ll always come back to you Mickey. You’re the love of my life.”

He didn’t say anything but they seemed to cling to each other harder in the hopes that they’d still be there in the morning.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mandy came in late in the morning after working the night shift and then sleeping over at some new guy’s place. Her quest for new dick knew no bounds and she felt immensely accomplished walking into her new apartment that morning. The boys were back and Mickey was sitting at their new, at least new to them, kitchen table and staring at the ceiling like a complete idiot as usual.

“Morning dickbreath. Where’s Ian?”

“I—Ian. Ian is uh in the shower.” He stuttered.

She raised an eyebrow. “Okaaaaay. What’s for breakfast?”

“Bitch I look like your keeper? Go find something.” He muttered taking big breaths.

“Nutcase.” She said under her breath.

She went into the kitchen where Ian must’ve saved eggs and toast for her and grabbed some coffee before taking a seat across from Mickey who was wound up tighter than a pair of fucking Harry Style’s skinny jeans.

“The fuck is up with you?” She asked biting into her toast.

“Oh god.” He mumbled to himself.

“What are you—”

And then there was the distinct shift of the table as Ian bumped his head and then a mumbled fuck before Mandy was out of her seat.

“oh ew! Ew you fucking sex addicts get a goddamn room! You have a room for that shit not at the fucking dinner table! Jesus Christ!”

She took her food stomping off to her room and slamming the door shut only for Ian to slowly dip head up from under the table.

He smiled sheepishly. “See we’re already having little friendly spats. We were meant to be roommates.”

“I fucking told you this would happen. Couldn’t just suck my dick in bed like a normal person.”

“You needed to eat. I wanted to make you breakfast and give you head, most boyfriends would appreciate that.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Most boyfriends know the appropriate places to give head, and that is not where my sister can walk in and kill us both, but sure, whatever.”

“Good. Now eat your eggs like a good boy while I’m busy down here.” He grinned completely ignoring everything else Mickey had just said.

And then he was sucking him down again and the eggs were long forgotten. Fucking Ian.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

“What are you doing I’m trying to love you and you’re ruining it.” Ian mumbled sucking heavy marks into Mickey’s skin.

“Keep it down jack ass I’m on the phone,” and then his voice suddenly got thick and quiet as he faked a cough. “H—Hey Kev. Look I don’t know if I can make it today. I’m sick as all fuck man.”

It was literally the most pathetic attempt ever and had Ian not been busy TRYING to fuck his boyfriend he would’ve laughed at him.

“Oh god is it contagious?! No stay away from me and my babies I don’t need the plague running around through here.”

Ian rutted his hips working himself even deeper into his lover which forced a beautiful grunt to pass through his lips.

“The fuck was that?” Kev asked.

Mickey grew flustered heels digging into Ian’s ass which did nothing to slow the man on top of him.

“F—Fuck off I’m trying not to vomit over here excuse me if I make a sound or two.”

Ian pouted unpleased with his boyfriend’s reaction and grabbed him by the hips to find the spot he really wanted to hit.

“Oh—Oh god.”

"That's it isn't it?" Ian smirked dragging himself across the small bundle of nerves. "Yea that's it."

Mickey bit down hard on his bottom lip to shut himself up but that did nothing to ease the sounds of skin slapping skin.

“Oh jesus Christ are you fucking over there?! You used my love for my children to get out of work so that you can fuck your boyfriend? That is sick.”

He hung up the phone before he could hear anything else that might scar him forever, as Vee emerged from cleaning the bathrooms.

“Who was that?” She asked.

“Uh Mickey’s sick. I told him to stay home so that the babies don’t catch anything through us, you know?”

She rolled her eyes. “They fuckin’?”

“So loud Vee. Ian’s like a machine and it’s the most horrifying mental image ever. I need boobs.” He sighed falling into his wife’s arms.

She wrapped her arms around her mammoth of a husband trying to ease the ridiculousness of the situation out of his head.

“Well he did say he don’t bend over for nothing under nine inches.”

Gagging ensued.

Maybe she wasn’t the best at that.

And Mickey fell happily into the covers letting Ian own his body in loving and damaging ways. It was different now. It felt different. Whereas three rounds used to feel like a chore, now every moment felt precious. Ian was glued in; he paid attention, he loved Mickey with every touch of their bodies whether it was rough and kinky or slow and smooth. He’d missed it so fucking much. He could take a day off to reconnect with his obnoxious ginger that he kinda sort-of loved to fucking pieces.

Ian kissed his swollen, bruised lips and nuzzled their heads together like they hadn’t been filthy just moments before. He held him close arms tightening in a way that could only make Mickey feel secure. It was wonderful, it was love.

“’M glad you’re not just my friend anymore.” Ian mumbled fingers skimming Mickey’s cheek.

“Why’s that?”

“Cause friends don’t kiss me like you do. A friend could never love me the way you do.”

Mickey moved his face into Ian’s chest so he could ignore the way his face flamed up at Ian’s words.

“So fucking sappy Ian.” He grumbled.

But they both knew he loved it.

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

The first time they go shopping is ridiculous. Ian embraces the house wife role fully, and Mickey hasn’t quite figured out how to hate it yet. With a list in Ian’s barely legible scrawl, Mickey allowed himself to be dragged to a Target. It was the first time he’d ever been to a Target. It was quite genuinely the gayest thing he’d ever done.

“You wanna pick out some new sheets?”

“The fuck’s wrong with the one’s we got?”

“Well nothing sweet pea as long as you love waking up with them in a pile under your legs. Your bed was a full, we have a queen size now Mick, they don’t fit.”

Mickey’s eyes tightened at sweet pea but he figured he’d cut Ian some slack so that he could get pissed off later.

“Ugh already used to the good life huh Gallagher?”

He smirked. “Guess so. You’re fault for spoiling me.”

They get black sheets, as per Mickey’s request, and a white comforter as per Ian’s. Then it was a hunt for stupid shit Mickey hadn’t even thought of like hand towels and oven mitts. Had they’d been on Southside being in public would’ve made his skin scrawl, but with no one they knew within a thirty mile radius of them he could relax, could focus on Ian and only Ian. Ian seemed to have a good enough time, and Mickey knew he loved being a show off more than anything. He was smiling and laughing and Mickey’s couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

 Ian liked that Mickey didn’t treat him different. As much as he loved his family he could tell they were being careful with him. There were the worrying glances when he went to the bathroom to take his meds, the soft voices that Gallaghers hardly ever used but now had to be used with him at all times, and the constant checking of whether or not he was okay. Mickey tried to treat him the same as he always had and Ian truly did appreciate the effort. The problem was just that he found that sometimes the disorder made him overthink and questions things. Sometimes watching him try so hard made him cringe and hate himself even more because he wished he could be appreciative, but he couldn’t. When he yearned for things to be like they’d used to, a piece of his brain constantly reminded him that they never could be. So even with Mickey being loving and supportive there were bound to be some moments of doubt.

It happened in the kitchen section. Ian decided a couple of butter knives and one steak knife that may or may not have been used to stab someone in the Milkovich house of horrors wasn’t good enough for their home. He wanted the new set of knives with everything that ranged from serial killer butcher knife to tiny but leather paring knife. Mickey didn’t agree.

“Oh come on man we don’t need those. Let’s just call it day and go home and bang huh?”

“No Mick, we need them for cooking.” He insisted.

“We don’t. Seriously freckles put them back.”

And just like it became something much bigger than it was. Ian shut down for the rest of the trip following Mickey sulkily into the checkout line without any of the enthusiasm from before. Mickey didn’t mention it at first, moving their things onto the conveyor belt while Ian tried to memorize the floor apparently. They had talked about eating some of the junk at the mini food court, but now Ian acted like he just wanted to go home.

“You hungry? Let’s get you a pretzel or something.”

He didn’t even so much as grunt in response. It was like someone had flipped his off switch, or taken out a battery. Mickey didn’t really understand; he was still getting used to experiencing those emotions.

Meanwhile agitation and hurt begin to boil over within Ian. He’d never liked being looked at as some fragile, tragic thing in capable of taking care of himself. In fact he’d worked a majority of his childhood trying desperately to feel strong, trying to get others to see he wasn’t some scared little kid in need of protecting. He was angry at himself, he was angry at his brain and his disorder and Mickey. It wasn’t fucking fair.

“Ian? Come on man you tired or somethin’? It’s been a minute seen you’ve been back into the real world maybe we should ease into it.”

And like the pebbled that surged down the corner of water perching perfectly on the horribly unsound dam it all came flooding out.

“I don’t need a caretaker Mickey. I’m not some pathetic little freak that you gotta pad the walls and hide the razors from okay?”

“The fuck are you on about? No one said any of that shit.”

“Why couldn’t we get the knives then huh? You think I’m gonna lose it again; you think I’m gonna off myself with a kitchen knife like Monica. I’m not fucking Monica!”

The outburst got them a couple looks that didn’t seem to do much for Ian’s anxiety at the moment.

“You got a fucking problem?!” Mickey snapped effectively ending the stares before turning back to Ian. “Look Ian I don’t think any of that stuff. I don’t think you’re like Monica because you got help, you’re doing better. I don’t think you need padded walls neither. I do think that 120 bucks for some knives I could very easily steal is dumb as all fuck.”

Ian’s eyebrows immediately furrowed. “Huh?”

Mickey took his moment of confusion to reach tentatively out for his hand, knowing that if they were back on Southside he’d probably be too afraid to do so.

“They were expensive as hell. And me pulling shifts at the alibi and Mandy at the diner don’t mean I’m ready to fork it all over for cutlery. Even if we can afford it, the Southside in me just couldn’t stomach it. Either way it’s got nothing to do with your mental state okay? I trust you. You’re fine.”

Embarrassment seemed to flood him from head to toe way faster than the dam of rage. His outburst now seemed more like a tantrum and he wondered was he really in control of his emotions at all. He felt crazier than ever in that moment.

“Hey.” Mickey breathed softly fingers reaching to grip Ian’s neck affectionately. “I’m right here. I got you.”

“’m sorry.” Ian mumbled.

“It’s alright. We still got some learning to do is all.”

He nodded softly not sure if he was convinced. “Okay.”

“Good now eat your fucking dry ass pretzel.”

Definitely still a lot of learning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this was kind of filler chapter but at the same time i think it's pretty vital. This is pretty much the departure chapter. You get a little bit of the Life back home with the Gallaghers for them and then they move into their new home where they're starting a life together in a sense. From here on out it's kind of less about them fending for their families and kind of fending for themselves, and in a way each other. But yea I like it. i hope you liked it lol. 
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated. 
> 
> You know where to find me:  
> zankivich.tumblr.com.


	15. Second Chances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is eighteen. Mickey twenty.

 

Ian is still eighteen when he and Mickey come to a pretty wild conclusion. Learning is heard. Learning to deal with his disorder outside of a mental institution is hard. Learning to live with Mickey in a home of their own without killing each other or Mickey and Mandy going at it. Learning to accept himself as he was, and that the part he hated so much wasn’t going to change. It was hard, and he struggled immensely. There was always a layer of guilt there for putting Mickey and even Mandy through his issues, and ultimately not letting him go. Every time he could see how upset it was making him broke his heart. Hurting Mickey was the worst pain he could think of but he could no longer actively choose to put Mickey’s happiness over his own even when he wanted to the most.

After the first few months of struggling back and forth, Ian wanted to fix things. He wasn’t working, thanks to the demands of both Mickey and Dr. Adams and he was tired of being cooped up in their apartment. Mickey and Mandy took turns with the car, so he had to catch the L to the Alibi. It was Vee and Mickey working side by side when he walked in and they looked like they were laughing. If that wasn’t a dynamic duo for the books he didn’t know what was.

“Hey lover boy! What’chu doin’ here?” Vee smiled drying shot glasses with a rag.

Mickey; however, smiled a smile that settled around his soul like a warm blanket on a winter’s night. He was so gone for him, it was ridiculous.

“Hey Vee.” He replied eyes completely resting on Mickey.

She snorted. “Yea go take a break Mickey before he jumps you in the middle of the bar.”

He poured Ian a soda and himself a beer as Ian took a seat at the bar. His eyes were wonderful and bright, the purple plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off making Ian’s brain a rattled mess.

“You tired of our new shiny apartment already?” He grinned.

Ian shrugged. “It kind of lacks luster when you’re not there.”

“I have been told I’m quite lustrous.”

“And modest too, no wonder I fell for you. Actually I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to go see the sox game with me. Figured we could sneak in like old times.”

Mickey licked at his bottom lip pleased when he seemed to draw Ian’s attention right there.

“You askin’ me on a date Gallagher?”

He nodded eagerly. “Game starts at four. Figured that gives you enough time to let me get you off in the bathroom and still finish your shift.”

Cocky Ian was one of the best Ians. Maybe because he’d grown up with him when he was shy and sweet, where confidence was just something he yearned for. Maybe it was because when he was cocky Mickey knew he felt safe and secure. Or maybe it was just that cocky Ian was hot as all fuck. You take your pick.

“Okay tough guy. Be subtle about it though.”

They weren’t subtle. Oh god they weren’t subtle at all. One second Veronica was watching them flirt with each other like a couple of school girls and then the next they were sprinting for the bathroom like mini, white Usain Bolts. It’d have been pathetic if it weren’t so cute. She vaguely thought of all the places her and Kev had done it around the bar. It kind of made her miss her husband, and as far as she was concerned that’s a good kind of love to have.

Meanwhile Ian Gallagher was on a mission and that mission was to make his boyfriend completely fall apart.

“Fuck Ian.” He hissed fingers tightening in his orange locks.

Ian on his knees was a sight for sore eyes and Mickey was having trouble keeping it together off that alone. Not to mention the fact that his lips and tongue were deadly. He swallowed around him, face nuzzling into the denim of Mickey’s jeans as there was nothing left to swallow. Mickey came with a mangled shout slumping over against the stall as Ian slurped up all he had to give.

“You’re a real asshole coming down here and wrecking me like this while I’m still on the clock.” He panted with a smirk.

Ian stood licking pre-cum from his fingers like the rude whore he was.

“Really? It’s about to get a whole lot worse than babe cause I plan on wrecking your mouth too.”

What a prick. Literally and figuratively. Sure it’d been a rough couple months but these were the moments Mickey lived for. When Ian was care and worry free, when a blow job in the bathroom put a smile the size of Jupiter on his face. Working to find a sense of normalcy because going back to the way things were wasn’t an option and maybe that didn’t have to be such a bad thing.

They stumbled from the bathroom together with lazy grins and rumpled clothes like the two happiest jackasses on the planet.

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Let me find some bodily fluids on my floor that ain’t piss, I’m docking your pay Milkovich.”

Ian smirked as Mickey’s cheeks warmed, fingers touching softly at his hip.

“Can I steal him tonight Vee?”

“Yea, yea, don’t need y’all in here suffocating my customers with your love.”

Ian smiled wide and annoying. Mickey shoved him playfully complaining about Ian keeping him from work. With Veronica around he found it difficult not to push Mickey’s buttons.

“I didn’t hear you complaining in the bathroom.”

“Ian!” Mickey hissed.

Vee just grinned. “Oh yea. Who would ever plain about nine inches?”

Ian gasped. “Mickey!”

Mickey’s face darkened in color as he looked away sheepishly. “Not my fault everyone you know asks so many goddamn questions.”

Ian rolled his eyes at his oblivious boyfriend but kept mum on the conversation as to use it for leverage later.

He watched the regulars come and go all morning, though very few actually left. Ian knew Mickey wanted to get away from Southside, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a part of him yearned to stay. Kev and Vee were amazing, but they probably couldn’t afford to pay much. There were plenty of reasons to just stay at their neighborhood where the people with a little more money and a little less grit were, and yet there they stood. For the light of him he couldn’t figure out if he never wanted to come back or if a piece of him regretted ever leaving. He thought maybe that’s how it would always be with Canaryville, so he might as well get used to it.

“So what made you decide on a sox game?” Mickey asked as they drove to the arena after his shift.

Ian shrugged. “Just a little I’m sorry for being mentally ill, I guess?”

“Ian you don’t have to—”

“Apologize, yea I know. And I’m not really. I’m just acknowledging that I’m not the only person this has been hard on. Sometimes it gets so heavy that I can’t breathe and I can’t see that I’m hurting you and I’m incapable of fixing it and that only makes me feel worse. Everything’s clear right now and I can afford to recognize your feelings. I just wanted to do something special for you.”

Mickey snuck a glance in his direction, still looking towards the road to the best of ability. He still was a man of action and not much of talking, so he reached tangling his fingers with Ian’s and gave them a firm squeeze. It was his way of saying thank you.

Climbing the fence into the white sox game made Ian feel nine all over again. How a six foot tall ginger and a short stud muffin with fuck u-up tats doesn’t get caught he had no idea, but he wasn’t dwelling on it. Fall was sweeping in, a chilly wind blowing through the stadium. Ian gave Mickey his jacket and snuck a kiss on his cheek when he pulled away. Ian would try to move closer to Mickey and his eyes would widen searching wildly for any sign of danger or homophobes before relaxing under the touch. Armed with beer and hot dogs and cotton candy they sat down to watch.

It was a great game. Neither of them were very big sports guys, but it was more about the energy of the game. You’re surrounded by people of your city and everyone is usually rooting for the same side. It’s just fun. Your brain remembers being a kid and wishing you catch a ball and not even being upset when you don’t. It’s the sugar high and all the happy drunk cheering together like they’re family. Every part just blends together into this extraordinary feeling of togetherness.

The sun sunk heavily in the sky like a baby in a pregnant woman’s belly. Everyone was buzzed and cheering on their favorite team. Mickey and Ian stood together with their arms around each other’s shoulders screaming boos at the top of their lungs every time the ref made a bullshit call. The Chicago tradition rung heavy in their ears and the excitement of the stadium was stifling. It was so . . . fun.

No one asks you if you’re crazy when you scream at baseball players on the field who have zero chance of hearing you. Ian didn’t have to think about his disorder at all. He was simply just a part of the crowd. There was something so great about blending in. As the night fell upon them and big, blinding lights lit up the field they watched the game come to a close with childlike euphoria. And he realized that he no longer yearned for the past, to be nine and so insecure of how his best friend might feel about him. Here he was happy; here he had every single piece of Mickey. He couldn’t yearn for the past, not when his present kicked so much ass.

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Ian slurred slightly.

One beer down and he already looked shitfaced. Mickey found it quite amusing.

He beamed. “You need a babysitter freckles?”

Ian shook his head stage whispering as he leaned on him heavily. “We’re gonna do sex stuff Mick.”

“Yea? Let’s go then.”

They stumbled into a bathroom, the game completely forgotten, loving how the tiny stall forced them closer together. Ignoring all the sounds around them they kissed each other with searing, heavy presses. They drank each other in greedily, touching and squeezing, fingers running over flushed skin. They felt young and invincible in that stall. Ian’s hands were on Mickey’s hips squeezing roughly. Mickey sucked at Ian’s neck creating beautiful, dark marks on the skin. There was an incessant need for each other that couldn’t be curbed whether because of the alcohol or love who knew. Mickey liked to think it was a perfect mix of both.

“Here.” Mickey insisted flipping himself over to lean against the door.

It was a flurry of denim and cotton as they struggle to assume position. But you’d be surprise what you can accomplish with some spit and a little elbow grease.

Mickey hissed as Ian sunk in and from there it was a blur of rushed movements. Suddenly he’s seventeen again getting fucked like he’s some mortal enemy and it feels so good, and he realizes that he gets to keep these parts of what they once were. He liked it rushed. He liked it when they couldn’t move fast enough, when nothing was ever enough. It was so fucking satisfying to know that they still had that, that if anyone was gonna have some inconsumable need for him it would be Ian.

They stumbled home that night only to keep going at it for another three rounds before collapsing against each other. It was a pile of sweaty limbs and panting breaths with satisfied smiles. They managed slow, lingering kisses before sleep over came them like a thick fog. Best date ever.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Things were better after that, good. So good in fact that Ian just wanted them to be even better. Mickey and Mandy were covering the rent for the place, but Ian wanted to contribute. His meds and weekly therapy sessions were expensive even with Dr. Adams cutting all the corners with him that she could. She was the one he took the idea to at first, sure that Mickey would shoot it down. He wasn’t exactly pro Ian doing anything that could even remotely put him in danger anyway.

“I wanna go to school.” He blurted after shoving his way into Dr. Adams’ office.

“Well hello to you to Ian.” She giggled.

“School. I wanna go to school.”

“Okay so let’s get you into school.” She shrugged from her desk.

His eyes flickered down to his hands. “I don’t know if I can. I mean Mickey doesn’t even like me to go to the grocery store by myself. He might not want me to. And I’m already such an expense for him and Mandy as it is.”

“It’s not really Mickey’s decision though is it?”

He shook his head slowly.

“I’m sure that if you explain to him why you want to go he’ll be supportive. Why do you want to go Ian?”

“Well I—I’m eighteen. My boyfriend and his sister are basically taking care of me, paying for everything. I just wanna contribute. I don’t like feeling useless, just lying around the house waiting for Mickey to come home. I used to want to be somebody. I wanted do things. I need to do something with my life.”

She smiled at him nodding assuring. “Sounds good to me. Have you thought about what you wanna do after?”

“N—Not really. I figured if I get my diploma I could get a decent job, thought that’s be a good start.” He mumbled.

“It is. We’ll look into it together okay? See how many credits you’re missing and take it from there. I want you to talk to Mickey though. If you’re scared start with a letter. Come up with what you wanna tell him and how you wanna explain it. Remember how important it is to have that trust with him. You can’t be afraid of Mickey.”

He nodded softly taking in what she was saying and tried to picture himself actually doing those things.

They moved on to talk about other things, but Ian couldn’t get that fear out of his head. When he went home that day and sat down to write it his hands shook, and this time it had nothing to do with his meds. When Mickey came home that night and asked how therapy was he told him same old, same old. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it was enough to make him feel like a piece of shit. He hated lying to Mickey.

“You wanna skip dinner and uh go to bed early?” He asked eyebrows doing a little dance.

Ian winced already feeling the guilt affect his libido.

“I gotta eat. It’s important that I stick to a routine you know? Plus m—my meds. Not feeling too good.”

More half assed lies. Jesus.

“Oh okay. Let’s order in tonight then, just chill.”

His thumb was rubbing soothing circles into the small of Ian’s back and it actually managed to calm him down. He gave him this worried look that somehow managed to ask, “Are you okay?” vs. “Are you losing your shit again?” It always kind of amazed him that Mickey was able to be like that.

So they ordered pizza and watched some bootlegged movie Mandy had gotten and just relaxed. Mickey lied in between Ian’s legs back to chest but kept a stubborn hold on Ian’s hand as they watched. It was that same thing from before thumb moving slow and soothing as if to calm Ian down and it sure as hell worked. He was thankful that he had Mickey in that moment, that he was able to be so attentive to everything Ian needed and wanted. Sometimes he didn’t understand why, but he was always grateful

Mickey flipped over when he got bored and quickly pressed his lips to Ian’s.

“What was that for?” Ian smiled.

He shrugged. “Just wanna kiss you. We don’t kiss enough without it leading to something else.”

When Mickey kissed him he was instantly reminded why it always led to something else. His lips were amazing. They made Ian feel light and hot all at the same time and it flooded within him thick and warm feelings all the way to his toes. Mickey landed flush against him as they slid down on their raggedy couch getting completely wrapped up in each other. Mickey’s hands were on his face moving through his hair and down his neck. It just felt so good.

Ian reached under Mickey’s shirt wanting to touch him, wanting to be closer. He remembered when kissing used to be everything, before their first time and before they started experimenting. Nothing had really changed, every kiss was still a shock to his system but now he knew what to do with it. He knew that Mickey liked to have his hips grabbed. He knew how much tongue to add and the moans that came when he sucked on his boyfriend’s bottom lip. Mickey knew that Ian liked to have his hair snatched, that he liked his mouth to be dominated in the kiss. They knew each other’s bodies and their kinks. Kissing could never be just kissing with them.

“If you think this is gonna not lead to something else you should probably stop soon.” Ian mumbled.

Mickey sighed licking his bottom lip. “Not my fault you’re a fuckin’ hornball.”

Ian stuck his tongue out but otherwise turned to reach into his pocket.

“I wrote this after therapy. It’s a lot of rambling back and forth but I think it gets the point across.”

Mickey sat up throwing a raised eyebrow in his direction.

“You breaking up with me freckles?”

Ian shook his head quickly nuzzling into Mickey’s side. “’Course not. Just read it.”

He unfolded the pages letting his fingers settle into Ian’s hair as he read.

_Mickey,_

_I know that you don’t like when I do things without you. I know that you get worried and that maybe you’re more scared of my disorder than you’re willing to admit. The thing is I love what we have here. I like our apartment and this town and starting over with you. But I think if I’m gonna start over I need to actually start. Sitting at home all day without you drives me crazy. ~~I like when you’re home and we’re together and we talk about your day and I make you dinner.~~  I’ve never been the type of person to just not do anything. I need structure. I need to have a plan and a goal. Just because the army isn’t the plan anymore doesn’t mean I can’t make a new one right? I wanna go back to school. ~~Please~~ don’t be mad ~~I just~~ you and Mandy are taking care of me like some invalid and I don’t wanna be that way with you. ~~I want us to take care of each other. As a team you know? I want to hold up my end of the bargain and I’m not. I feel like shit sitting home all day~~. I’m fucking rambling. Look I think school might get me some purpose. I can do school and maybe get a job and help with the bills for my meds and my therapy. It’s not fair that all that goes on you. So I’m just trying to ask for your support. I need you through this alright? _

_-Ian_

Ian read warily over his shoulder realizing that he hadn’t really spoken much about what he wanted to do at all. He’d just rambled for a century and crossed out half of it. His medication came with a little bit of scatter brain and a struggle to concentrate. Okay so maybe writing a letter wasn’t the best idea.

Mickey turned to look at him with a weird expression on his face that Ian couldn’t quite place.

“You wanna go back to school?”

He nodded softly looking up at him from under long lashes. Mickey couldn’t help but compare him to a puppy all over again.

“Well shit Ian why would I not be okay with you going back to school?”

Ian’s eyes widened. “Mick you get scared when I’m in the shower while you eat breakfast.”

“Well yea cause I wanna be with you jackass. And I don’t get scared it’s just like anxiety or some shit. It’s not because you’re bipolar and I think you’re gonna hurt yourself; I just still get afraid of losing you. Doesn’t mean I wanna lock you up in a tower and never let you down again. You wanna go to school than go to school. You wanna leave the house then leave the goddamn house. You shouldn’t feel like you can’t go somewhere because I’m gonna get angry at you give me a little more credit than that.”

“O—Okay.” He mumbled.

Mickey sighed in frustration turning on the couch so he could better look Ian in the eyes.

“Hey,” He breathed fingers molding around his cheek. “don’t doubt yourself like that. Don’t doubt how I feel either. I’ll support you through anything. We’re good right now. If you don’t wanna work then don’t, if you want to then sure go get a job somewhere. I just don’t want you to do something because you feel like you have to or you feel like we’re getting tired of you. And if your head is telling you something that’s making you second-guess that you gotta tell me and we’ll work that shit out together, alright? We’re good.”

Ian deflated at that slumping so that their foreheads touched and leaning into Mickey’s touch.

His eyes fluttered close. “I’m being crazy.”

“No you’re not. This is you. You gotta work through that and get used to it. I’ll help.”

“I just wanna be worth something again. I wanna matter.” He muttered.

Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed and then he was grabbing Ian’s chin so they’re faces were close together.

“I don’t like when you do that shit. You do matter. You are important. And you are fucking worth something. Maybe it’s not as some war hero, but to me you’re really fucking important.  And to Mandy and your brothers and sisters. Kev and Vee? So don’t do that. And if you’re gonna do that come find me so I can tell you how wrong you are.”

“’m sorry.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be sorry. You don’t gotta apologize for what’s going on in your head.”

“Can’t help it sometimes. Can’t help how I feel.” He insisted.

Mickey nodded. “I know. I’ll just tell you what’s you and what’s not. If that helps.”

“It does.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

And then they were kissing again and it most definitely lead to something else.

*One hour later*

The door handle jiggled as Mandy struggled with the lock again. It was the one flaw in their apartment that really grated on her nerves so far, that the door sometimes stuck and you had to wiggle it loose. Things could be much worse. For instance she could walk in to her brother and best friend fucking each other on the couch without so much as a fucking blanket.

Mickey was on his back legs sprawled for Ian who fit perfectly between them. His hands were on Ian’s ass pulling him closer and Ian held on to the couch as he pistoned in and out of him.

“Oh Ian! Fuck yea!”

“OH FOR FUCK SAKES YOU TWO IS NOTHING IN THIS APARTMENT SACRED?!”

Their rhythm very quickly came to halt as they took in their fuming roommate at the door. They were getting increasingly bad at this.

“W—We had a moment.” Ian replied sheepishly.

Her eyebrows shot to her forehead and she very nearly took one of his eyes out with her keys.

“What the fuck Mandy!” Mickey hissed.

He liked that face. He wanted that face to stay unscathed.

“It is three o’clock in the morning. I just worked the night shift and took the fucking L home with dudes with tiny dicks trying to cop feels so I could come home and relax. Maybe kick my feet up for a few minutes, eat something before bed. I did NOT come home so I could watch my older brother defile the fucking couch I helped pay for with his boyfriend like something straight off pornhub. You wanna have a moment? Have a moment in your goddamn bedroom where moments are for! AND GET A FUCKING BLANKET NO ONE WANTS TO SEE THAT SHIT!”

She slammed herself inside her room leaving the two boys to wince in her wake.

Mickey grinned a little but Ian quickly shut that down.

“Don’t. She’s right. You should go apologize.”

“ _I_ should go apologizing? You were fucking just as hard as I was right there.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Yea but I’m not her brother, I’m not scarring her for life. She just worked all night too. Go apologize, she’ll appreciate it.”

“But . . . but we gotta thing we need to settle!” He sputtered peering at where Ian was currently impaling him.

And just like that he pulled out and headed towards their room leaving him cold and empty the bastard.

“I’ll be waiting.” He called over his shoulder.

“Fuck.” Mickey muttered.

He slowly pulled his sweatpants back on and tugged on his shirt before grabbing a couple slices of pizza and a beer. He had a feeling he was about to have to promise something he didn’t wanna fucking promise and it wasn’t going to be fun. Also a cranky Mandy is fucking terrifying so his knock on the door might not have been too excited.

“Fuck off!” She yelled.

He rolled his eyes cracking the door open and leading with the pizza.

“Brought a fucking piece offering.”

She huffed softly reaching up and snatching the pizza away from him. He cracked the door a little bit more handing over the beer as well.

“You can take the car all of next week alright? I’ll take the L instead.” He offered flicking at his nose. “And we’ll keep in to the bedroom from now on.”

She raised an eyebrow staring at him curiously she opened the beer with her teeth. The anger thatched been so prominent before quickly eased out of her. It was as close to progress as Mandy was probably gonna make.

“You look happy.” She murmured taking a sip.

He shrugged. “I am.”

“Ian good? Taking his meds?”

“You see him just as much as I do.”

“Not really. How’s he doing?”

“Wants to go school. Thought I would freak and had to write me a fucking note after therapy. You know Gallagher, has to feel like he’s doing something important. We’ll figure it out though.”

She nodded seeming to take in what he said as she picked at her pizza.

“I’m really happy for you guys. You know that right? Just cause I’m tired and I bitch after work doesn’t mean this isn’t the best I’ve felt in a long time. It feels amazing not to have to be afraid that he’s gonna come walking in again. You were right. I had nothing for me back there.”

He stared at his sister, who had dropped everything to move with them to some beat up apartment away from Canaryville, and he just really wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to do her thing and be the woman they used to see their mom as.

“Just cause you had nothing back there doesn’t mean you’ll never have nothing again Mands. For the first time since middle school you ain’t fuckin some dick head who likes to put his hands on you or treat you like shit or some dirty little secret. You’re just doing you and there’s not shit wrong with that. I’d rather you bitch here every day than not know what shit was like at home . . . I’m glad you’re here or whatever. And I’ll stop fucking my boyfriend on the furniture.”

She nodded softly and he almost hugged her. Mickey Milkovich almost had a legitimate sentimental moment with his sister. Fucking Gallagher had made him soft. It was disgusting. He settled for kicking her ankle, which was as close to affection as Milkovich siblings could probably get. Then he high tailed it the fuck out of there and made it back to his room in record time. His asshole of a boyfriend was sitting up in bed handing moving steadily up and down under the sheets with a grin etched onto his thin pink lips.

“Was starting to think I’d be flying solo tonight.”

Mickey rolled his eyes tugging his shirt over his head and making his way into bed. Solo. Ha!

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Ian was four credits away from graduating. Turned out the over doing it with West Point had done him some good after all. With a couple of online classes Dr. Adams was convinced he could be in college by the spring if he wanted. The praise he got was immaculate. Fiona hugged him for a straight five minutes clearly on the cusp of tears the entire time. Dr. Adams was proud too, telling him the routine of school could really be good for him and his mental health. Still there were details to be sorted, things he wasn’t willing to let go.

“You want me to do what now?” Mickey huffed.

“I think you should do online school with me. Two diplomas is better than one and you could get a job better than nursing the neighborhood drunks.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“Look the only reason I stopped kicking your ass to graduate is because I kind of did actually lose my mind. I’m clear now, and I’m telling you you can do this Mickey. I believe in you, I know you can do it.” 

Mickey simply rolled his eyes never taking Ian’s declarations of his brains to heart.

“If I’m supporting your ass through school who’s supposed to support me Mr. ‘You-can-do-it’?”

Ian beamed proudly. “I’ll have you know I got the job at the gym and the benefit of going corporate is they actually have benefits. My meds will be cheaper and I can get on a plan with Dr. Adams office.”

Mickey’s eyes turned to slits like a cat taking in an enemy as his realization of what was going on hit him.

“There’s no point in me arguing this because you’ve already planned this all out haven’t you?”

He jumped up into Mickey’s lap like he wasn’t a fucking giant, threading his long ass arms around his neck like a vine.

“Yep! We’ve got a meeting with the admissions lady on Tuesday so that I can enroll and we can see how many credits you need.” His excitement was temporarily abated as he softened snuggling into Mickey’s arms. “I think this could be really good for us Mick. We need this. The alibies and the diner aren’t gonna hold us forever.”

It was the eyes. That world of crisp greens and icy, sultry blues that always left Mickey in a state of amnesia. Maybe if he just never looked at the redhead again, he’d stop getting put into complicated situations.

“I’ll go to the goddamn meeting. Ain’t making no promises though.”

And the excitement was back as Ian lurched forward connecting their lips in a searing kiss.

In all honesty things really did seem to be moving up. Fiona was at a stable job, Carl and Debbie doing their part on the bills and Ian and Lip still sent contributions to help keep that ship a float. Mandy got a raise at her diner, and the Alibi was doing good in the cooling weather, where alcohol brought a warmth to your bones. Ian had gotten called back for a second and third interview at the gym, and apparently landed the job. Things were smooth sailing, and so maybe Mickey could understand why Ian wanted to move ahead with their lives together. Mickey was always a more current, deal with what’s in front of him kind of guy. But he knew that Ian had always been a dreamer; he loved having a plan. Something about being with Ian made him not having a little plan of his own.

So after Ian’s first day at the gym Mickey arrived to pick him up enjoying the wondrous sight of his boyfriend after working out all day. He was sweaty and glistening and Mickey’s mouth watered immensely at the sight. His hair was shoved back and he was reminded of Ian’s joke in the hospital, because he was most definitely sexy with his hair shoved back. Aaron Samuels had shit on Ian Gallagher.

His shirt was missing the sleeves and the pale, creamy skin that he loved was flushed and beautiful. Jesus Christ, Ian.

“Hey!” Ian grinned happily. “You’re early.”

“Didn’t have much to do at the Alibi, figured you’d want me here a little earlier.”

“Aw Mick did you miss me?” He chuckled wrapping his arms around him.

“No. And you stink dickhead.” He muttered affectionately.

“Gotta shower still. Wanna join me?”

“And get you fired for fucking at your work place on the first day. Nah I’ll be out here.”

Ian whimpered but kissed his cheek none the less. “I’ll send pictures.”

Mickey swallowed but didn’t argue the fact. He also definitely didn’t sit in the car waiting for dick pics that’s not a thing that happened at all. By the time Ian had appeared Mickey had turned his phone off, the anticipation just too much to handle. Ian slid into the car throwing his bag into the back seat and slipping all the way over to Mickey’s side because he had absolutely no concept of personal space. Mickey hadn’t minded in years, but he still liked to pretend he did. It was just a little difficult when he couldn’t stop smiling at the love of his life.

“I’m tired. It’s gonna be an early night for me.” He mumbled into Mickey’s shoulder.

“Rough first day?”

“I’ve gained fifteen pounds Mick. Fifteen. I’m flabby and loose and chubby. My mile is down to almost ten minutes. I did a spin class today cause my boss wants me to get a feel for where I fit in and I barely lasted a song. I used to be a fucking machine.” He complained.

“Of course you were a machine you were fucking manic dumbass. You’ll get back to where you wanna be it’s just gonna be on the terms of human hours now. Not to mention I’ve seen you naked and flabby, loose, and chubby ain’t even in the fucking vicinity of what you are. Make me wanna give up pringles, asshole.”

Ian smiled wild and bright leaning over to plant a ridiculously wet kiss on Mickey’s cheek.

“You’re a keeper Mickey Milkovich. I love you.”

Mickey snorted but turned to kiss at Ian’s hair.

“Love you too.” He mumbled.

Ian waited until a stop light to go for more than kiss on the cheek. Even if work had been hard he felt refreshed, he felt good. Getting to be with Mickey after his first day at work only made it better. He still got that feel in his belly when he and Mickey were together, that feeling of butterflies and internal rainbows bursting within him. It made him feel full and madly in love, but also like he was just kicking it with the most amazing person on the planet. Some things never changed.

A honk behind them had Ian pulling away and running his thumb along Mickey’s cheek lovingly as they sped off once again. He couldn’t be more affectionate if he tried and the best part was that Mickey seemed to welcome the intrusion.

Then they were at a high school meeting with some lady that helped with online admissions for drop outs apparently and Ian couldn’t help but take note of something. Mickey held his hand. In fact his grip was so tight his fingers began to turn white from the force. And Ian couldn’t help but remember all the times he’d wished he could hold Mickey’s hand in public, how desperately he yearned to reach out and intertwine their fingers in the halls of their school. And yet there Mickey was doing it like it was second nature, like holding Ian’s hand was a necessary part of everyday life. He’d never been so in love.

“Alrighty I was able to get a Mister Mickey Milkovich’s file here and I’ve matched up the classes you took to our requirements through the online program. I’ve got to admit it’s a bit tricky here. In a lot of instances your lack of attendance forced your teachers to give you failing grades.” The woman explained.

Mickey sighed as if she was telling something he already knew, as if he hadn’t expected her to be able to help at all.

“That’s fine. Just help him out.”

But Ian wasn’t willing to give up that easily.

“Well there must be something he could do right? Some way he could get his diploma.” He asked eagerly.

She pulled out a couple sheets of paper circling things and writing them down before turning her attention back to the couple.

“We understand that the mindset of an adult is not the same as a child, and that a diploma is important to so many people. That is why we offer a test out option. If mister Milkovich can past a test in a couple of courses he could get his credit and still do the online schooling. Our average pace is about one course per month, some going faster and some slower, but the most important thing is that you feel comfortable working at your own pace.”

Ian leaped at the information his eyes widening. “Okay, so how many credits is he behind all together?”

“Eight.”

Mickey snorted. “Ian, that’s an entire year.”

“Yes, but you’ve managed to adhere to all the math credits. You can test out of English 11 and get away with a writing and literature class. Both of you would have to take Government and Economics. I’ve been told our online gym class is an easy A, but you could technically test out of that as well if you weren’t willing to part with the money, as well as health. You would need one elective, maybe something you’re interested in studying. Business math perhaps since you’re so good at it.”

Mickey eyed both of them dubiously. Two people should not be that excited for fucking school, it was ridiculous. He was having horrible flash backs of sitting in study hall bored out of his mind. It was almost too painful to bare.

“Can I talk to him second?” He mumbled.

“Of course take your time.” She smiled.

He grabbed Ian’s hand yanking toward the doorway like an incessant toddler rather than a pissed off grown man.

“Mick you promised.” Ian insisted already sensing where the conversation was headed.

“I promised I’d hear her out and I did. I’m not repeating my senior year Ian there’s a reason I dropped out.”

“Okay first of all you would have had to attend your senior year in order for you to be repeating it. Second look at all the classes you can test out of! We’ll study together and knock this out by your birthday, she even said there’s an option of getting both a diploma and a college degree at the same time. It’ll be fun.”

“I sucked ass at school. You know that. I showed up to make my collections and steal your food during lunch. It wasn’t my thing. So let’s go back and let her get you enrolled okay?”

“No.” Ian insisted. “We know what went down when you were eighteen Mickey. You stopped going because of me and because of your dad and that . . . that whore. Y—You can’t do that, you owe this to yourself.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I stopped going because I didn’t give a shit alright? Between juvie and selling for my dad there wasn’t room to care about school. I was gonna quit with or without the incident.”

“But . . .”

“No buts. It was a nice idea, but I’ll be fine at the Alibi okay? We’re pulling in plenty of money.”

The mental image of a fifty year old Mickey still serving Frank(because of course the bastard wouldn’t just die) beers was literally the most nauseating thing Ian could imagine. Over his dead body that shit was happening.

“We were a good team. You remember that right? I helped you with English and you helped with all the math shit. We got through a lot of years that way Mick. This isn’t any different. We can do this. Together. You have to graduate.”  

Mickey huffed. “If you think you’re going get me through school with blow jobs like when we were kids you’re crazy.”

His hold on Mickey’s face was tight, fingers burning into his skin soothingly. He looked into his eyes and it was a fucking wrap as always. The things he would do for Ian Gallagher were infinite. He was whipped as all fuck. His resolve was wavering and at that moment Ian leaped in for the kill.

“I am crazy and that’s exactly how we’re gonna get through school.” He breathed again his neck. “You got this Mick. We’ll take it one day at a time. We can do this.”

Mickey groaned slumping his forehead against Ian’s.

“If I say yes you promise to never give another motivational speech again?”

Ian made a screeching sound like a wild fucking banshee arms tightening around him like a snake as he lifted him off the ground.

“Jesus Christ Gallagher stop manhandling me!” Mickey chuckled.

A couple of kids walking down the hall had the audacity to sneer some homophobic slurs at them. Ian froze, so very used to Mickey’s flight or fight leaning into the flight gear when anyone brought up his sexuality. Needless to say he surprised him by doing a little more fighting than flighting.

“You wanna fuckin die?! Read the knuckles bitch!” He yelled hopping down from Ian’s arms and stalking towards the now terrified kids who were quickly moving to flight. “I’ll show you a faggot.”

They ran and Ian snatched Mickey up again, so deeply and madly in love with him that it hurt, fingers wrapping around his neck.

“The fuck are you so smiley for?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

Ian just cheesed leaning to touch their lips.

“You’re so hot when you threaten to kick teenager’s asses.” He murmured.

“Mickey Milkovich defender of the gays get you goin huh?”

“Oh yea. Let’s enroll though so I can have my way with you in the parking lot like I should have as a teenager.”

Mickey smiled letting himself be pulled back into the room. Second chances were few and far between where they came from. He came from a home where doing well in school was actually frowned upon. He’d been taught that school was a waste of time, had watched his brothers blow it off and thought that’s that was he should to do. He’d been counted as a failure before he’d even gotten the chance to try. Leave it to Ian Gallagher to try and change all that.

_Senior year here we come._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long I completely forgot on Friday last week and then life just got a way from me. But i hope this makes up for it. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Much love. 
> 
> You know where to find me.   
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	16. Making Plans

“Come on dammit.” He hissed.

Ian is nineteen when he pushes it farther than it probably needs to go. His chest was heaving, heart thumping in amazingly quick succession as he kept moving, kept pushing himself. The wall was lined with mirrors so he could watch himself struggle, watch himself continue to push against the wall within him. His legs burned. His lungs ached. And sweat was rolling down his face and neck in steady streams. The bike was hot under his searing finger tips. He was tired; exhausted even and yet he kept going.

Ian had been at the gym for about four months. Winter was in full course, snow and ice freezing a thick layer over Chicago. He’d finished Econ and Government and was down to his last two credits. His body was constantly giving up on him though and he hated it. He hated being useless to the world before ten o’clock. He hated not being able to last three or four rounds because his meds were kicking in. And he hated that he couldn’t keep up at the gym more than anything.

The vision he’d once had of himself was no longer there, and no matter how hard he work he didn’t seem capable of obtaining it. And so sometimes he went a little overboard. Sometimes he worked his body until it gave up on him only to be even angrier than his body had dared quiet. It wasn’t the healthiest way of living, and he knew he shouldn’t do it, but maybe a little unhealthiness wasn’t so bad every now and again.

He headed home in the beat up car he and Mickey had got off the old guy in 6B who could barely walk let alone drive. The condition had been questionable but Mickey fixed it easily enough. He was pulling hours as a mechanic while doing school while still helping out at the alibi every now and again. Needless to say times were a little rough at home. Ian pulled day shifts into the evening at the gym; Mickey was usually at the shop early in the morning, so he could get out in time to get his school work done. Mandy was doing her thing to the point where sometimes it barely felt like they lived together.

Friday meant they had the weekend though. It meant they could eat dinner together and actually see each other outside of, “hey what does the fifth amendment say?” or “What fifteen squared”, which for the record is 225. Ian yearned for Fridays. He yearned to be the most nauseating couply couple there ever was and he wasn’t ashamed of that.

“I’m home!”

Mickey was there instantly taking in the ginger before him with careful eyes.

“You took a while. You been workin out too much again?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Could you at least pretend to be sexually attracted to your boyfriend and come kiss me?”

He snorted but leaned in anyway. “So fuckin’ dramatic.”

His tiny arms wrapped around Ian’s waist letting himself be swept up in a gentle kiss. Ian brushed his tongue along Mickey’s bottom lip begging to be allowed in. It’d been a long day and he wanted to have sex with his boyfriend before his meds would ultimately turn him into a jellyfish. Mickey granted the access but only let Ian get so far before pushing him away.

“You gotta eat and take your meds handsy.” He smirked.

Ian huffed impatiently. “Way to kill the romance Mick. Can’t I make love to my boyfriend to smooth jazz on the furry dead carcass of a polar bear next to a warm fire before I become incompetent to the world?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow. “One, we don’t own any smooth jazz. Two, we most definitely don’t got a polar bear rug or any other dead animals. And the closet thing we got to a warm fire is the radiator which could combust any second. We don’t make love either. We fuck. What’s the matter with you?”

Ian spoke as his fingers slid over Mickey’s chest tugging at fabric that had no right to be in his way.

“Friday is what’s the matter with me. I don’t wanna fall asleep. I don’t wanna eat boring tv dinners and watch mindless television until the meds kick in. I want you. It’s cold and gross outside and I want it to be hot and grosser in here. Is that too much to ask?”

“No . . . but you gotta take your meds.” He murmured voice softening. “We can do whatever you want after you take them and eat a little something.”

Ian didn’t like it, and he hated more than anything that he knew Mickey was right. He pouted as he snatched his meds from out of the cabinet in the bathroom before shoving pasta and meatballs into his mouth to help it all go down. His meds were stable, and he was happy to have some sense of normalcy in his life, but falling asleep early was still a hiccup. It wasn’t so bad, in fact he had worse drowsiness in the mornings than at night, but it still affected him. He was almost always ready to go to bed before Mickey, and with them doing their schooling on top of work, he felt like the window to spend time with his boyfriend was getting smaller every day.

Mickey ran his fingers soothingly up and down Ian’s back a look of worry and something a little angrier in his eyes. He hated seeing Ian unhappy, hated seeing him anything less than beaming. He tried his hardest to ease some of the frustration whenever he could.

“Maybe you should talk to Dr. Adams, see if there’s anything she can do about the drowsiness.”

“So she’ll give me another med for another side effect? It’s starting to feel like my entire existence is just a list of side effects.”

Mickey tugged at his hips fingers slipping onto his chin to force eye contact. All Ian could see in his eyes was a warmth that shouldn’t be in the icy blues but heated his soul none the less. He relaxed a little leaning into that touch that made the world feel whole.

“You’re not a side effect. You’re Ian. Ian who has to go through some shit to feel comfortable, and that sucks, but we’ll work through it. Cause we have to. Now are you gonna sit here and complain or whisk me away and show me what all this lovin’ shit is about?”

He grinned quickly snatching his boyfriend up to head blindly for their bedroom.

As nice as their apartment was to anything they’d ever had growing up it still had its flaws. The radiator was either threatening to melt them into puddles or freeze them into icicles, and with winter happening the ice was usually what they got. Their mattress though stolen sat on a bed frame so rickety and weak, that every time they sat on it there was a need to hold their breath. For them everything wrong with that apartment was like character or some shit. They hated it in the moment and loved it in the long run. When the only warmth to be found is the heat of someone else’s body you lose sight of all the so called “wrongs” around you.

Ian’s fingers were soft in Mickey’s hair. He stared at him like he was something other than he’d been convinced he was. He smiled so white and bright at him, something soft, tender in his lips. His naked body pressed against his and it felt like they were touching for the first time, like they were feeling each other for the first time. Southside never had much room for love. There was always bigger things to deal with like rent payments and grocery money. If you would’ve told Mickey that he could just . . . be, could just let his body be ravished softly by Ian Gallagher he would’ve definitely told you to fuck off. But that night, under the covers with cold fingers tips tracing blood-flushed skin, felt like everything he’d ever wanted and more.

“I love you.” Ian whimpered driving them into the mattress in passionate, languid strokes.

It was breathy and desperate and Mickey fell in love with it. There’s something special about giving yourself to someone like that. You can bend over or spread your legs for anyone but when you make love it’s like . . . it’s like your sharing souls. Your skin touches and you become one. You can feel that heartbeat, feel the blood coursing steadily through their veins because of **you**. You can taste the moans at their throat, and when they scream for you it’s the biggest declaration of love in the whole world. It’s a first time all over again as far as Mickey was concerned. Because to fuck and to make love were two different acts entirely.

Mickey’s fingers turned to fists in Ian’s hair as he struggled to control himself, struggled to stay away from the edge he was so clearly nearing. It was affecting him more than he thought possible as he tugged urgently at the strands.

“I—I’m sorry.” He huffed breathily. “Fuck I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay.” Ian painted the breath along his cheek. “I got you.”

They kissed swallowing each other’s moans as they continued to rock their hips. Mickey had always thought that making love meant slow and soft, which was never something he was interested in. he should’ve known Gallagher would turn that idea all the way upside down.

 Their headboard slammed harder into the wall than ever. Ian couldn’t stop touching him. He couldn’t believe that Mickey had agreed to it, let alone got so into it that he’d started pulling hair. At times it was hard to breathe and they would just pant and bite and lick at each other, but it was impossible to forget that love. He didn’t know anything could feel like that. It was different than sex. It was better. They just molded together perfectly and the pleasure that they could bring out of each other’s bodies was unlike anything either of them had felt before.

“I—Ian. Ian! Oh god!”

He shifted onto his knees driving his hips deeper against Mickey’s ass. They were tangled together so tightly that you couldn’t see where one stopped and the other began. Mickey began to thrust his hips back at him jaw locking as he realized what was happening to his body. He couldn’t fight it anymore, so he gave in letting the wave crush him into a beautiful wreck.

His hands yanked mercilessly at Ian’s ass as he came, cum shooting out between their chests without ever being touched once as his body released every ounce of tension it had ever felt.

“Fuuuuuuck Ian!”

He latched his teeth onto Ian’s ear fingers tips squeezing down as Ian joined him on that release.

“Oh Mickey yea!”

*fifteen minutes later*

Ian looked over at Mickey with a blissed out grin on his face wild and carefree.

“Did you…?”

Mickey raised an eyebrow gesturing down at his own cum all over his stomach.

“Fuck yea I did.”

“Cool.”

“So that’s makin love huh?” He sniffed.

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

And that was all to be said on the matter.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

“Ugh I’m gonna blow my fuckin’ brains out.” Mickey muttered.

Ian snickered. “It’s one more class and you get your diploma. We even get to walk Mick.”

“With a bunch of people we don’t even know. I’m only doing this for your ginger ass.”

“You love this ginger ass. Now come on finish so you can take me on a date. I need to be wined and dined Mick.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” He muttered hunched over the laptop they’d got from a pawnshop.

“I’m the best pain in your ass.”

He chose then to stop offering up puns for his dumbass boyfriend and just continue to do his assignment. Ian collapsed in the middle of the living room like a giant ass starfish flailing his massive limbs everywhere. Mickey shook his head suddenly remembering that he was in love with the most ridiculous human being on the face of the planet.

“Miiiiiiick you promised!” He whimpered voice ridiculously close to that of a five year old.

Mickey had promised to take his boyfriend on a date because he _thought_ it might put an end to some of the bitching. Apparently he’d been wrong in that department. The nicer side of him thought it would help him clear his head, get away from work and school, and let him just focus on something simple like his hot ass boyfriend. He’d also been nearly dicked into unconsciousness when he offered the date, so it was scheduled the same night he had a paper do and well . . . that was obviously not his fault.

“Ian I’m almost done. You’re not gonna miss your date dumbass we’re going together.”

“I need fresh air. This apartment is suffocating me can’t you type faster?” He huffed.

Mickey sent a glare over the edge of his computer screen that sent a very clear answer. Ian simply collapsed and whined all over again. Ten minutes passed of typing and huffing before Mickey finally closed the laptop.

“Better hope I don’t fail cause of your nagging ass.”

Ian smiled crawling from the floor to rest his cheek on Mickey’s knee.

“I’m sure you aced it. Now can you go get changed so we can go be gay and in love?”

Mickey snorted running his finger through the copper strands. “Anything for you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ian leaned up to get to Mickey’s lips perfectly fine with Mickey being distracted if it meant he got to choose the distraction.

“Fuckin horn ball.” He smirked on his way into their room.

He put on his good jeans, the one that had shrunk in the dryer and made even women catch a glance, but drove Ian wild. And the navy blue button up. Sure, he also gelled his hair up. It seemed to surprise people that he was physically capable of not looking like a hobo, but he knew when he looked damn good and the correct moments to dress like that. Usually for Ian. Almost always for Ian.

A low whistle met his ears when he bent over to tie his shoes, and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“This the new shirt?” Ian asked slowly grinding his hips against Mickey’s denim clad ass.

“Yea cause I can really tell you’re lookin’ at the shirt.” He chuckled standing up. “Teenagers and their hormones.”

“Hey not my fault I’m dating an old man.” Ian mumbled.

They slid into their coats and scarves in preparation to brace the cold.

“Old man my ass I’m two years older than you.”

It was kind of crazy to the both of them every time they got into their car instead of taking the L. They’d grown up in it their whole lives, Ian never having a car that worked and Mickey never having a father who would get off his ass and take them anywhere. It took the heater a few seconds to kick in but Mickey had done a whole bunch of work on it and the thing was ten times better than the state they’d got it in. There was also nothing weirder in the world than to be actual adults in their adult car going on an adult date from their adult home. Though southside had always forced them into adulthood there was something about actually living in it. It felt a lot nicer than their “childhood” ever did.

They headed for this dive bar a little outside of town. It had enough grit that Mickey didn’t leave before they walked in the door, and was notorious for the gays. Food was decent, but they also had fries and wings by the bucket load, which is really all they were looking for. The fact that they could make out and not get punched in the face was just a bonus. Also they had really old game systems for a quarter and Ian enjoyed beating Mickey’s ass. All in all it was a pretty good place for a date.

“If isn’t my favorite couple from the wrong side of the tracks.” The regular bartender, Johnny, smirked.

Mickey sent him a middle finger and Ian smiled like the big goofy idiot he was.

“Can we get the regular please?”

“Two baskets of fries, a order of hot wings, the cheapest beer on tap for Mickey and a beer for you but water for the rest of the night coming up.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Showin’ off ain’t gonna get you a bigger tip.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirked.

They took their beers to a booth pulling off layers and smiling at each other as they awaited for the food to come. It was clear that Mickey felt comfortable there and a comfortable Mickey always made for a smoother evening. Ian would give up every expensive meal in the world just to see those lips pull up at the corners.

“Can I ask you something?” Ian asked fingers twirling around his beer.

“Shoot.”

“Where are you from? Before Chicago I mean. Like where were you born?”

Mickey’s eyebrows raised at the question but otherwise shrugged.

“New York.”

“New York? You mean I gots me's  a city boy?” He chuckled.

“Think my mom’s family Ukrainian. We always just thought my dad popped up right out of hell. They met, got married, popped out a bunch of kids. But uh my dad got involved in the wrong shit. He was always mean but whatever the fucked happened just made him meaner. Started drinking. Started selling shit he didn’t have any business selling. Almost got busted so he packed us all up one summer for some road trip and the next thing I knew this obnoxious fucking kid was begging me to be his best friend.”

At that Ian smiled wide and bright remembering the summer day when kids had moved in next door. He’d hoped with all his might that there be some kid his age, but he never could have guessed what was waiting for him in that house.

“Best day of your fucking life is what that was.”

“Absolutely.”

“Can’t imagine what I would’ve done if you’d have said no.” He murmured eyes on his beer. “I don’t even know what my life would be like right now.”

“Sucky?”

Ian nodded reaching for his hand across the table so he could play with his fingers.

“Really sucky.”

“Guess we got lucky then.”

They were interrupted by Johnny bringing their food out a bottle of water for Ian, so he wouldn’t have to ask later. A comfortable silence settled over them as they dug into the first bites of food. Mickey had been thinking about something for the better part of a month now. He didn’t know if he wanted to bring it up then or wait until he had something more concrete. He knew he wanted to take care of Ian though. Not even in just the mental stability way either, he wanted to make sure they never had to scrounge together pennies to eat, or make major life decisions every night winter came around and they needed heat. He didn’t want Ian to ever have to go back to his childhood. Neither did he for that matter. He thought maybe they deserved something fucking good for a change.

“Can I ask you something?” He mumbled around a French fry.

“Sure.”

“When you asked me to go back to school did you have a plan in mind for what I’d do after?”

Ian scrunched his face up and shrugged. “Not really. I thought maybe finishing high school would give you some incentive to do something else. I also didn’t really wanna do it alone. You’re really smart I just wanted you to see how smart you are.”

He nodded looking down shyly. “So what if I did have an idea of what I wanted to do?”

“You do?”

“There’s a uh program at this school. It’s for construction management. Pretty good money if I do an Associate’s degree. Even better money if I do a bachelor’s. I don’t know if my grades are even good enough to get in but . . . I could try. It might be good for, you know, us.”

Ian watched his cheeks warm as he basically told him he was at least thinking of a future for them. Mickey Milkovich who had always lived one day at a time, who constantly said “later” or “not right now”. His heart did weird things in his chest, sinking deep in his stomach. He wanted to go to college. He wanted to build a life with him deeper than he already had. For a second he had visions of extremely domestic things. Like lugging a Christmas tree into their first home or eating cereal next to move in boxes. Maybe they’d adopt a kid or look into being foster parents. Whatever it was it was a happy fucking future. With his Mickey.

“Mick that sounds amazing. That’s like math and science too right? You’ll fucking crush that.”

His eyes widened, teeth becoming visible as he preened under the praise.

“You think so?”

“Duh. Oh my god would you like go on campus and stuff? What kind of classes are you gonna take? I can call Lip and get him to help with the architecture stuff. It’s gonna be so great!”

The excitement busting out of him was soaking into Mickey and for a second he could really see himself doing it. Going to school and maybe missing out on some sleep if it only meant that he could see that fucking smile every day.

“You’re such a fucking dork.” He sighed affectionately.

“My baby’s gonna be a construction manager. You’re gonna sit on the side of the road with your cute little hard hat and bark orders and I can’t fucking wait.” He gushed leaning over to kiss him square on the mouth. “Next round’s on me.”

The rest of the night was just consumed in the raging inferno of their excitement. They played Pac Man and Mickey got pissed off every time he lost. There was a major battle of Mortal Kombat that resulted in kissing to make up for wounded egos. They had fun and talked shit about people from work. Mickey bent over a pool table enough times that Ian was have genuine thoughts of dry humping him against it just to take the edge off. Still they were friends, still there was no one else they’d rather hang out with and that felt really fucking good. Dating your best friend has its fucking perks.

“You’re buzzed again.” Mickey chuckled as Ian threw himself on top of him.

Mickey was supposed to be playing some old ass game from the seventies and the hundred and sixty pounds of height and muscle was immensely distracting.

“Nope. Just wanna romantically help my boyfriend play his game.” He insisted fingers moving ontop of Mickey’s.

His hips had other plans. They played a few founds trying to kill the bad guys and subtly get some relief. Ian seemed to be ready to go with the flip of a switch and Mickey just liked to tease him. He had a great ass, that wasn’t something one could argue. So they began a gentle rhythm of their hips, Ian pushing up every time Mickey would gently push his hips in a circle. It was the closest thing to grinding they—Mickey—would ever do, and to be quite honest it achieved its desired effect.

“Home?” Mickey huffed abandoning his game.

“Home.”

They grabbed at their coats not even bothering to suit up and Ian just threw a twenty and a ten at the bartender on their way out.

Johnny chuckled peering over at the clock.

“Alright who had hour and fifteen?!”

Some lucky patron cheered at the others groaned. Forty bucks richer. It was literally clock work with the two of them.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

They graduate on a Thursday in the same gym that Mickey held up a sign that he’d drawn a dick on just so Ian Gallagher didn’t feel alone. It was nostalgic and weird and fucking sad all at the same time. All Ian could remember was the good times though and that felt pretty good. He remembered hiding behind his locker watching Mickey stalk through the halls with a swagger that made him weak in the knees. He remembered all the pining and wanting. Then he remembered the glorious months after where they skipped third period and made out in Janitor’s closet. He remembered hand jobs under the bleachers after school. He remember just hanging together and helping one another through the most awkward time of their lives. And he loved the fact that Mickey was at the center of all of it. The thought of going through any of it without him just didn’t even make sense.

They almost didn’t walk because they were jerking each other off in the bathroom under the science hallway where no one used to go. And then they did with the eruption of Gallaghers, Balls, and even a Milkovich screaming through the crowded gym. Only a Southside school let’s a twenty-one and nineteen year old walk that’s for damn sure, but they took it. And in the end even Mickey felt a little proud of himself. He was the first Milkovich to ever walk across the stage and he’d be damned if it wasn’t for the ginger standing right beside him through it all.

The advantage to not driving was that they made out the entire way to the Gallagher’s house. Kev drove them in his truck complaining the entire while Vee just laughed and the girls napped. They couldn’t be stopped. Going back to high school had awoken a hunger in them that had surely always existed. Ian wanted to touch this beautiful man with a high school diploma who went from doing nothing for nobody to anything that this one person asked him to do. Him. And Mickey wanted to absorb all of the man who had made him live, who had shown him a world full of love and mutual protection and all this shit he’d never known existed.

“You know just because you graduated doesn’t mean you’re still eighteen. Disgusting.”

“You sound a little homophobic Kev.” Mickey smirked as Ian moved to his neck.

He snorted. “If Lip was back there getting chewed on by a girl I’d be equally disgusted. I watched you two practically in diapers; keep your hormones to yourself.”

Ian rolled his eyes but otherwise pulled away. Besides they always had the party to sneak off if they wanted.

The celebration for the both of them was pretty big. Gallaghers didn’t do anything half assed and they came fully prepared with boos and food. Ian had snuck more than his usual monthly allowance to help keep up the bills at home anticipating this would be the outcome, but Fiona had simply returned it with a knowing smirk. They couldn’t always afford to do it big for every half-assed accomplishment but when they did it they went all out even if it included a Milkovich.

“I’m so proud of you sweetface.” Fiona gasped grabbing him in a crushing hug. “You did so good Ian.”

He smiled wide and bright at her. He’d always wondered what the reaction would be if he graduated. Lip practically got a parade in his honor, and there had been a part of him that thought maybe they wouldn’t care as much, but after all the fucks up he’d had the year before to hear Fiona say he did good was the best thing ever. And then she hugged Mickey just as hard and the look on his face was almost better.

“You too. And Lip told me you’re thinking of going into college?! Jesus Mickey you did better than good.” She told him.

And they all knew she wasn’t exactly just talking about school. A part of her was just happy that he was taking care of her brother. As far as Mickey was concerned he’d take it, cause there wasn’t anything he didn’t do in some way to benefit his life with Ian. But above all, deep in her heart, Fiona was just as happy to see the little kid from across the street who used to run over crying cause his dad couldn’t keep his fucking hands to himself graduate too. The fact that Mickey Milkovich was gonna be somebody made her just as happy.

“You okay?” She murmured massaging his ears like she did with Ian.

He winced. “’D be about ten times better if you got the fuck off me.”

“No physical contact unless it’s Ian. Got you.” She murmured stepping away. “Ian kiss his cheeks for me.”

Mickey rolled his eyes as Ian smiled a goofy grin at him before quickly complying, Mickey’s cheeks warming under the touch. Then he reached forward kissing him slow and deep like he wanted completely dominating his boyfriend’s mouth.

Fiona gagged. “That was not what the fuck I meant you two!”

The party was fun. It was a little reminiscent of their childhood. Spending school nights up all night and testing the limit of how many beers they could sneak past Fiona. Mickey wouldn’t dance with him, but he did let him kiss him whenever he wanted and that was a bonus. He’d felt really down on himself for graduating at nineteen, despite all of the pride he felt at Mickey graduating two years older, but it was hard not to feel happy at that moment. Things had fallen together for them and it seemed like they were going to improve even more. He had to believe that their shitty lucky maybe wasn’t so shitty anymore, and that maybe just maybe they would be okay.

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Their anniversary was on a Sunday. It was the first anniversary post Ian’s diagnosis and even though eight years didn’t seem like some magical number Mickey at least tried to make it special. He wasn’t the romantic type and nothing ruins romance faster than living with your sister, but she was barely around at that point anyone. So he took the day off to fix the apartment, the most intense cleaning he’d ever done in his life, and ordered Ian’s favorite food from some Thai restaurant because like fuck he was gonna poison them both with his cooking. It’d been four years since they sat out in the cold on a baseball field eating Cheetos and the only beer Mickey could afford. It shocked him to think about how far they’d come since then.

They had agreed no presents because all the romance was really getting to Mickey’s masculinity and he just couldn’t handle it anymore. Plus they were all about saving for some reason and random presents that neither of them needed just didn’t seem to fit the bill. So he simply waited for Ian to come home moving the couch back so they could eat on the floor like the children they really were.

Ian walked in his sweatpants and thin athletic shirt covered up in a bulky coat that could burn in hell for hiding the beauty that was his boyfriend. One did not simply get over Ian Gallagher. Not with abs like that. Not with a smile so goofy it should’ve been drawn on for him. Not with those fucking eyes that seem to hold the whole world with in their depths. Mickey knew that he fell harder every day. He also knew Ian knew, but that they had an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t speak of his obvious adoration.

“Work sucks and I fucking missed you.” Ian whined dropping his bag and grabbing Mickey by his hips.

He let himself be pulled reveling in the cold pressing of their lips after being outside. If they kissed for the next five minutes, never having moved away from the door, it was obviously because Ian’s lips were cold and Mickey was looking out for his wellbeing. Also he tasted like strawberry and heaven.

“Happy anniversary dickhead.” Mickey mumbled against his mouth.

Ian grinned. “Happy anniversary. Looks like you didn’t forget after all.”

“No I sucked your dick this morning ‘cause they say semen is the new breakfast for champions.”

“So romantic you make my heart swoon.”

“Eat your fucking heart out Gallagher.”

They sat next to each other on the floor eating take out with their knees pressed together. It was kind of the best anniversary Ian could’ve asked for. When he was younger their anniversary had to mean something, it had to be big and romantic and _something_ because everyday life never got to be. When they were young he yearned for affection in the outside world, yearned for people to know that Mickey was his and he, Mickey’s. He’d grown up a lot since then, as did Mickey, and the affection that he felt on a daily basis with him meant that he no longer needed grand acts of love. Every day with Mickey felt like the greatest love he’d ever known.

“Did you vacuum?” Ian asked head resting in Mickey’s lap as they watched a movie.

“Yea, so?”

“I didn’t know you knew where we kept the vacuum.” He chuckled.

“Can’t a man change? Can a man not vacuum his own home without getting bitched at for it?”

“Oh Mick I would never bitch at you.”

Mickey scoffed. “You’re the biggest bitch I ever met. Even more than Mandy with those fucking puppy dog eyes.”

Ian wormed himself deeper into Mickey’s lap finding the comment in the insult. He pressed his face against Mickey’s stomach thinking that he loved that stomach, that that stomach was beautiful and he kind of wanted to kiss that stomach.

So he did flipping Mickey’s t-shirt up to get at the skin.

“Thank you for vacuuming.” He whispered with a kiss. “And for dinner.” Another kiss. “And for loving me better than anyone else ever could.” Another one. “I love you.”

Sappy as all hell but it was true. And if anyone was allowed to be sappy it was Ian cause he was so good at it.

“Wanna go fuck now?” Mickey breathed abs tightening at the feel of his lover’s.

Ian hummed. “Or we could make love.”

“Yea that. Let’s do that. Come on.”

And getting yanked off the ground towards their bedroom by a very impatient Mickey was just about the best thing ever. Usually it was Ian who got needy, but Mickey could want to. It always drove Ian up a wall… and into his pants.

Best Anniversary Ever.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

“If it isn’t Mickey Milkovich getting down with the college geeks. Can you breathe I hear the air is more sophisticated over here?”

Mickey snorted kicking at Lip’s chair which he was leaning backwards in probably almost killing him. The fear of the near fall though was good enough for today.

“Look shithead I need your help so let’s not make this more difficult than it needs to be. Ian’s got plenty of brothers I doubt one going missing will make a difference.” He huffed.

“Oh cute, threatening me with murder that’s a great way to get my help. What can I do for you today Mickey?”

He took a seat across from Lip sniffing and looking anxiously around at the library. It was so pristine and orderly he immediately felt out of place. Mickey Milkovich and college were like water and oil. He kind of felt like he was fighting fate just being there. Regardless he had a vision in his mind that couldn’t be stopped and so he shoved the folder he’d brought with him across the table and took in the safety of chewing on his thumb nail.

“What’s this drug money?”

“Fuck no will you stop being an annoying little shit for fifteen minutes? It’s our finances and shit alright? I did the math. It’s how much I bring in and how much Ian brings in each month and then each year. I did a separate column to add in Mandy cause she technically pays rent but she spends so little time at home I doubt she’ll be there much longer. I put in all the necessities and food and shit. I need you to tell me how to afford college cause ain’t nobody gonna pay for me to go to school with my fucking rap sheet, so just tell me what I gotta do alright?”

Needless to say Lip was a little taken aback. The Mickey Milkovich he knew shot at things for fun, didn’t shower, and greatest pleasure was to cause people physical harm. He’d heard that he’d managed to graduate high school but he’d been sure that that was more so Ian’s doing than Mickey’s. The thought of Mickey going to college wasn’t so much funny as it was really fucking weird. Not very many people got out of the Southside and even fewer went to college. But Mickey? Mickey “Fuck U-Up” Milkovich. He didn’t get it.

“I’m sorry you wanna do what now?” He asked, confused.

Mickey rolled his eyes heavenward. “I wanna go to school dumbass.”

“W—what for? Why? When we went to school together you spent more time under the bleachers than in class and that was before you started blowing my little brother.”

Mickey was suddenly regretting his decision. And by suddenly, he meant he’d regretted it the second he walked on the fucking campus.

“Look Phillip I got shit to take care of, you gonna help me or not?” He hissed.

And something about a particular part of that sentence made it all click. Because everyone had shit to take care of, Gallaghers knew that better than anyone. But of all the shit on Mickey’s plate he could think of only one thing that would require a college degree.

“Wait a second . . . you wanna go to college . . . to take care of Ian?”

Mickey immediately peered away from his stare, pissed that he’d gotten caught and pissed that Lip Gallagher asked way too many fucking questions.

“Bipolar meds are fucking expensive alright? He sends a third of each check to Fiona and I know it’s only cause he’d feel bad for me if he was sending half. He needs to stay in therapy cause it makes this shit easier and like fuck I’m gonna let him end up back at some sleazy club to pay for it. This is what makes sense. So unless you knew where to get a money tree from I’d appreciate it if you’d just fucking show me what I need to do.”

Lip peered down at the contents of the folder. His handwriting was shit but the math was good . . . perfect actually. He’d somehow managed to be good at a subject Ian couldn’t have been any worse at. And the fact that the dickhead was literally going to school to support his brother was just about the craziest, sweetest thing he’d ever heard. Not that he’d tell anyone that ever. Like literally ever. If helping Mickey meant he could worry a little less about his brother all the way on the other side of town then so fucking be it.

“What do you wanna do?”

“Construction Management.”

Lip smirked. “Ah so you wanna get paid to stand around and watch all the men do construction? Whoever said you were dumb might deserve an ass kicking.”

“You just might.”

“You sure you wanna do this? It’s not gonna be easy. College is fucking rough man I can promise you that.”

Mickey nodded strongly. “I got this.”

Lip nodded to himself peering over the math another time.

“Alright. I’ll help you out.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the incessant need to have Ian and Mickey make love. I always say i'm not gonna do it and then i do that shit anyway cause it's cute and i like it dammit so bite me. I'm also very excited for college Mickey. I worry sometimes that things are getting a little bit rushed, but then i kind of like that aspect. Like at the beginning of their lives we get long deep description of their lives together because that's really all they had and then they begin to grow and things slip a little more, there's more gaps between the moments. It's like flipping through a book almost. Anyway i hope i don't disappoint too me. 
> 
> As always comments and kudos are loved. 
> 
> You know where to find me.   
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	17. If You Love Me Let Me Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from "This is Gospel" by Panic! At the disco.

Mickey is twenty three and it's a rough year all around. Ian had to go and sprain his ankle before he realized that over doing it in the gym was gonna really fucking hurt him one day. Mandy moved out only to show up a couple months later covered in bruises and too prideful to ask for her room back. She wouldn't even tell Mickey the guy's name so he could pump his body full of lead and dump that pathetic piece of shit in the river.

Carl got sent to juvie and Fiona finally realized that the money he'd been sneaking into the squirrel kind was of the drug money kind. Debbie ran away for a little while after things got too heated between her and Fi. Apparently the place she could think to go was straight to Ian. Something about Ginger codependency or some shit. Either way they couldn't kick her out, and so she stayed until he could convince her to go home and talk it out. And as if shit falling apart all around them wasn't bad enough that year was a bit of rough patch for him and Ian as well.

Lip helped Mickey get into college all based on the understanding that there would be some debt at some point. The only silver lining was that _if_ he could pull it off, Lip said he could pay it off no problem. That meant though, of course, he had to actually pull it off and college math most definitely wasn't adding up how much Frank Gallagher owed that month for coke. It was hard. Really fucking hard. Unfortunately that stress quickly bled into their relationship and sometimes it was hard to see that until the fight was already said and done.

Twenty-three was the year Mickey didn't know if they'd still be together come next year.

He had a paper due at five o'clock. Ian had an appointment at . . . yep five o'clock. And something Mickey quickly found out at college was that some professors cared as little as physically possible about what was going on in your everyday life.

"I need an extension on the physics paper." He explained to his teacher.

She looked up from her desk sending him a somewhat kind, tired smile.

"Mr. Milkovich, while I do appreciate your courage you know I don't offer extensions."

"It's a family thing. I—I can get it done I just need like an hour. Two tops."

"What's the family thing?"

"My . . . partner. He's bipolar. His meds have been a little out of whack lately. I gotta get him to his therapist."

She nodded softly to ponder as she leaned back in her seat.

"Mickey you've done a spectacular job in this course. The effort you've shown from being one of my most struggling students to one of my best is nothing less of all your hard work paying off. I understand that life happens and family matters come up but I cannot give you extension when no one else got one. That just wouldn't be fair. You're welcome to sit here and finish the paper so that you can get it on time, I don't want to hinder you, but it needs to be turned into me by five pm."

"B—But his appointment's on the Northside. We live in Southside and I drive almost forty minutes to get to the east side for class every day. I'll never make it on time." He spluttered.

"Just do the best you can." She encouraged.

It was a load of shit is what it was. His little success story of getting his shit together in physics when he'd failed biology twice would mean nothing if he didn't get that paper in. It was two hundred points. And at the beginning of the semester all she had stressed was how important the papers would be to their grade. Detrimental, she'd said. He didn't turn it in and it he would be fucked. He needed the course to graduate. There was no choice.

And so he sat in a room for three hours writing a paper, because he was fucking stupid and that's how long it took him to write papers, on physics in real world situations while his phone continued to buzz with the vengeance of a pissed off boyfriend. He was fucked either way.

After traffic Mickey was over an hour late. Ian had texted him that he was going to take the L since his piece of shit boyfriend was too busy to answer the phone. Those were his exact words of course. Running full steam ahead into Dr. Adam's office he ran smack dab into Ian who was on his way out.

"H—Hey sorry I'm late." He panted.

Ian simply sneered, moving past him and out the door. Mickey cursed himself before following the redhead outside. Ian had walked completely past the car making his way down the street opposite him.

"Goddammit Ian." He huffed sliding into the car.

There was no way he was gonna be able to keep up with his boyfriend's giant ass legs. At least he had the speed of the car. He drove slowly along the curb keeping pace with a fuming Ian who wouldn't even look at him.

"Where are you going huh? Get in the car!"

"Fuck you. I'm gonna take the L home the same way I fuckin' got here. Don't even know why you bothered."

"Look just get in the car so I can take us home. There's no sense in the dramatics right now."

"Dramatics? Did you or did you not promise to take me to my appointment and then not show up? And did you or did you not ignore every single one of my phone calls to find out just wherein the hell you were? Leave me alone Mickey I don't wanna fucking go home with you I don't even wanna look at you."

He followed next to him all the way to the L not giving a damn what he wanted. But as Ian disappeared there was nothing left for him to do but drive home.

They met at the door, Mickey waiting for Ian to come home so he could fix things. He was still giving him the silent treatment though and that never went well.

"Ian, man, come on I didn’t have a choice I had a paper due at five. I asked for an extension and the best I could get was to sit there and finish it. It was two hundred points I fail that paper I fail the class and I don't graduate. I had to do it."

"And what the fuck does that have to do with you not calling? No texts. No nothing. I was twenty minutes late and she almost couldn't see me today. If Dr. Adams wasn't a fucking saint I could've missed out on my new prescription and who the fuck knows what would have happened?"

Mickey sighed in frustration pulling roughly at his hair. "I—I know alright? But I had to, I didn't have a choice."

"You did have a choice you just don't care." He mumbled pushing past Mickey to take his coat off.

"Excuse me?!" He called snapping instantly. "So I miss one appointment, for a class I need to make sure you're fucking ass can afford any new prescription you'll ever need and now I don't care?! Now I'm the asshole? Fuck you Gallagher."

He was only Gallagher during fights or extreme moments of affection at that point. It shouldn't be too difficult to discern here. Gallagher meant he was hurt, meant he was angry. They both knew it. The result was a full fledge screaming match until Mickey walked out.

He almost thought about driving to the Alibi, but the drive was too long and he knew it'd get back to Fiona. So he headed for their favorite pub instead. That only served to piss him off even more, cause Ian wasn't there, so he drank until he forgot the fight and maybe his name. It didn't matter that he work in the morning and class that afternoon. He just wanted to forget for a little while.

That wasn't the first and most definitely wasn't the last. Mickey was doing school full time and working full time as a mechanic. Full plus full usually means too fucking full but he had no choice. His community college might not have been Harvard but they still weren't letting people in for free. Tension seemed to be constant, and what should have been little spats turned into nasty arguments usually matched with slamming doors. 

It was like text book marriage shit and they weren't even married. When Mickey had first started school Ian would fight the fog of his meds to be awake late at night when he came home. He'd warm him left overs, massage the kinks out of his back, and fall asleep next to him on the couch while he did his homework. Halfway through his fourth semester he'd be lucky if Ian rolled over with a grunt when he crawled into bed at night. It sucked.

Finals were the worst. Ninety-five percent of his time went to studying and the other four was divided between Ian, work, sleeping, eating, and bathroom breaks. That equaled out to about point six-seven percent for each. And Ian Gallagher, though he loved him to death, was the neediest fucker on Earth. So . . . that went well.

All the fucker wanted was a date.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in months." Ian sighed painfully over a bowl of cereal.

"I—I know. But after finals I get a break. And then I'll find a job and my hours won't be from nine in the morning to midnight. This is all I've got left. I've got this. Things'll get easier you know?"

He nodded softly continuing to play with his food.

"Well maybe we could . . . you know go out on Friday? You know like we used to?"

Mickey would've given him anything in that moment just to see the redheaded smile.

"Sure. I'll get the day off and we'll go okay?"

And there it was. It started as a tiny beam of light before his lips spread wide and excited letting vast rays of sunshine burst from his mouth. He was kind of beautiful. And Mickey missed him so fucking much it was ridiculous.

"You want a ride to work?" Mickey offered dumping his dishes in the sink.

"Nah. I gotta go with Fiona to visit Carl. We're gonna try to talk some sense into him."

"He tryin' to stay in juvie?"

Ian nodded. "Doesn't wanna snitch. He thinks another stint in juvie will build his street cred. He turns fucking eighteen next month if he's not careful they'll try him as an adult and he's fucked. Fiona's fucking losing it."

Mickey peered down at his phone instantly doing some mental math. He was supposed to be at the garage at the eight but he only had two cars to work on that day. He'd planned on coming home early, but helping with Carl might get him some brownie points. Plus he'd known the kid his whole life and didn't exactly wanna see him end up in fucksville USA. He figured it was a good enough cause.

"I'll drive you. How you gonna convince him not to be a delinquent without someone who used to be a delinquent?" He smirked ruffling the redhead's hair.

He looked up at him from his seat. "You're coming?"

He smiled taking his face into his hands. "Yea. That okay with you?"

"Mhm. Kinda wanna kiss you first though."

"That can be arranged." He murmured leaning in.

The kiss was soft and sweet, neither of them too eager to do too much too soon.  At least that's what Mickey thought.

"Kinda wanna thank you now."

He got out of his seat and headed for their bedroom never sending a spare glance Mickey's way.

"Pants off Mick!"

He thanked him real good that morning. Another thing they'd been extremely lacking in recently was sex. And something every man needs in a stressful time in his life is ass pounding. Dirty, bent over, face in the sheets, cum running down the thighs, ass pounding. So maybe not every man. But Mickey Milkovich needed it. And when he got it he was a hell of a lot more Zen. As Zen as Mickey ever was anyway.

They ended up in a room pretty similar to the one Mickey and Ian had been in together all those years ago after the Terry fork incident. Fiona, Liam, Ian, and Mickey all sat down with him. Debbie had school and Lip was too busy with some fancy machine somewhere. Carl came in with a cocky grin more brittle and fake than anything Mickey had ever mustered up. The second he sat down he just looked like a scared, tired kid. No one understood that better than Mickey.

Fiona was really emotional varying from anger to crying.

"Carl you have to do what they want you to do okay? If you get a record right now you are fucked. You need to come home do you hear me?" She insisted.

But he was a seventeen year old kid. The last person in the world he was going to listen to was her.

"Hey Mickey. Hey Ian." Carl smiled beaming at him the same way he had his whole life.

There was always an infatuation there for Carl, some sense of looking up to Mickey for being what he thought to be so bad ass. Ian knew it, which was why he was so excited when Mickey offered to come.

"Hey kid you keeping your head up?" He asked.

Carl nodded looking more like a child than ever. "I'm almost able to stomach the food. I ate a whole meal yesterday."

Mickey snorted. "Look for the kid at the head of the room that everyone smacks hands with. That's you're supplier for seasoning. They usually buy it all up from commissary so trade him some cigarettes or whatever else you can get from there. Salt goes a long way in that shit hole."

Fiona didn't seem too happy with him trading cigarettes but he couldn't really have given a fuck less. They all sat around talking and hugging and making sure he was okay. Mickey kind of kept to himself allowing the family to have their time. He knew if anyone had tried to talk him out of the shit he did as a kid he wouldn't have listened. Ian was the only one who could get him to do anything and even then he still didn't change his ways. But Mickey had Terry. Mickey had a rep to protect. Carl Gallagher had shit reasons to ruin his fucking life.

So as everyone was leaving he gave Ian a gentle push towards the door and turned back to Carl to talk some sense into him.

"Look man you gotta do whatever the attorney wants you to do." He told him.

Carl snorted face falling just a tiny bit. "Ian tell you to talk to me? You know better than anyone how important your reputation is."

"Actually he didn't. I got a fucked up thing for caring about Gallaghers. It's gonna get me sent to an early grave trust me. What you're doing is stupid. If the attorney tells you you can get off, you do what the attorney tells you. That's common sense."

"I can't rat out my supplier you know that."

"You don't have to. You go and you put on a fucking smile, tell them you're a good kid just trying to help your sister pay the bills and you fucked up. She'll give you probation, maybe some house arrest and you're good. But you're seventeen. Even I stopped fucking around at seventeen. They try you an adult and you don't go to juvie where scumbags like me are waiting to bust your kneecaps. You go to the fucking big house where pieces of shit like my dad eat kids like you for breakfast. You can't fuck around with this Carl."

He seemed to soften at that biting anxiously at his lip as he realized the gravity of the situation. It wasn't like Mickey was telling him anything he hadn't heard before, but a piece of him had thought that Mickey would find it cool, tell him he did good. If Mickey thought he was fucking up then maybe he actually was. All the fears he'd been ignoring while he waited for his sentencing now attacked him heavily. He'd been thinking juvie was gonna be fun, be a bunch of people like him where he could earn points, get out, and do what he'd been doing before. But that's not how it was at all. And if Mickey was telling him to get out chances are it was true.

"Fuck." He muttered crumbling it on himself. "What's my best case scenario if I don't do what the attorney wants?"

"You go to juvie. With no crew, and no last name that anyone's gonna give a fuck about. You get thrown around for six months and then you're eighteen with a record and no high school diploma."

"Yea like I was ever gonna graduate." 

He shrugged. "Said the same thing myself and now I'm a semester away from graduating from college."

"Yea but that's all for Ian. I don't got anyone to do that shit for."

"Could do it for Fiona. Unless you like watching your sisters cry over your ass. Could do it for yourself too. Be the third Gallagher to get out? That's like a fuckin' record or something right?"

"One minute inmate!"

Mickey rolled his eyes but that actually seemed to shake Carl. He knew better than anyone what the kid was going back to though.

"Keep your head down. Don't fuck with anyone and if you can try to be known for what you're willing to trade. We've got a little bit saved up, Ian'll put some more money in your commissary account. It'll keep the bigger ones off your back alright? Clean yourself before the hearing and do whatever you gotta do to get out and stay out. You hear me?"

Carl nodded quickly throwing his arms around Mickey in a surprising hug before the guards led him away. Mickey could only hope he took his advice. Kid was so fucking scared he didn't know how he was making it in juvie let alone jail.

When he told Ian and Fiona the advice he'd given him he got another very unnecessary sobbing hug from Fiona. With only three kids left in the house she wanted her brother home and she wanted him home that instant, so anything he could say to get Carl home was going to get him slobbered all over. It didn't help that Ian smiled at him again like he was the world, a smile he hated to admit he'd been missing out on lately. It put it all into perspective for him though.

He saw the Gallaghers and how hard they loved each other and it was like motivation to finish school. Ian was his family now. He'd spent years known he would do anything for him, but the idea of being able to do it without them having to struggle appealed to him heavily. He just wanted their lives to be simple and happy. College was gonna do that for him. It just took him a couple years to figure that out.

And so he went dropped Ian off at work where they spent ten minutes fiercely making out before he stumbled out with his gym bag and a smile that would surely kill Mickey one of those days.

He found that's kind of how life worked. It wasn't constant going at each other's throats like the movies where it's obvious that nothing is working. It was so much slower than that. A poison that seeped in and consumed them until there was nothing left. But for the moment they were okay. It was hard to tell if it was a balancing act or just attempting to delay the inevitable. For now Mickey just wanted it to be about balance.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Friday came and Mickey was ready to sob for joy. His back was killing him from the garage that morning, he was in desperate need of a coffee IV, and he wanted a hot shower and a blow job. His last class on the day was his intro to Architectural theory class. It was one of his lower classes in turns of grades and he was hoping if he studied hard enough that he could get by with a C on the final and not totally flunk. Ian had been texting him all day about their date, and it was getting him through the day. So of course that had to be ruined. There just wasn't any way around it.

"Alright I know a lot of you are struggling or want to do really well on this final exam. I told you I'm not in the business of failing people; I really want you all to do well. So I'm offering up a study session tonight at eight o'clock. I'd advice every person to come tonight. I'm willing to add an additional twenty-five points to your grade on the final. It's not an easy exam once so ever, but coming tonight will expose you to the same questions you're going to see on it. Trust me this will be useful okay? See you all tonight, class dismissed."

Everyone was practically weeping tears of joy at the bone their professor had just thrown them. Mickey on the other hand was just weeping. It couldn’t have been worse for him. Ian was either going to kill him or leave him. Either way he was absolutely fucked. But he knew there was no missing out on the study session and he knew that Ian wasn't going to understand. He had visions of throbbing veins in the sides of necks and clenched fists and spit flying. The last thing he wanted to do was fight with Ian, but he had a feeling there was no escaping it.

The drive home was terrible. He should've been thinking about the five classes he had finals in but he was a hundred percent nervous about Ian. There was a weird feeling in his gut that it wasn't going to be a simple fight. It wasn't the first time he'd flaked out on Ian for school, and he knew Ian was getting worn out. Ian was a romantic at heart and that sometimes got in front of his logic. He was the kind of person who wanted you to throw your head on a silver platter for him just to show you loved him. It fucking sucked.

"Mick is that you?!"

He sighed dropping his bag down on the floor. "Yea it's me."

He came out of the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping off his pale skin. Damn him and that puppy dog smile with a model fucking body. It was ridiculous and he loved it and he couldn't stand it.

"Hey, I missed you." He sighed wrapping his arms around him. They kissed, Ian eagerly pushing his tongue into Mickey's mouth as his hands began to wander. "So much."

Oh god.

"Hey, hey, hey I uh I need to talk to you about something." Mickey murmured hands moving to Ian's cotton clad hips.

"Don't wanna talk."

"No we got to. It's important."

Ian pulled away lips dimming slightly at the seriousness of his tone.

"Okay. What's up?"

Mickey sighed pinching at the bridge of his nose, which was never a good sign. Ian wasn't stupid. There was only one thing that was gonna make Mickey do that.

"Oh no. No Mickey come on you can't fucking bail on me for a date we've been together eleven years!"

"I fucking know alright. My intro to architectural theory class is having a study group and my professor is offering twenty-five points if we show up. You know that's my hardest class. And he basically told us we're idiots not to show up because all the study questions are gonna be on the final. I have to go." 

"We've had this planned all fucking week! You promised me!" He yelled.

"I know! We'll go tomorrow though okay?"

"I don't wanna fucking go tomorrow. Goddammit Mickey!"

He stomped off to their room after that slamming the door so that it rattled in its hinges. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say. The shower he took in Mandy's old bathroom wasn't anywhere near the comfort he wanted. He felt like shit and he knew that he was shit, and that some blonde haired fuck with abs like Ian and a tan probably existed somewhere happy to skip study sessions for him. He just wanted to do good and make Ian happy but it seemed like everything he did to try and do that was blowing up in his face.

When he went to get dressed Ian was already dressed facing completely away from the door so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with him. It was silent and cold in the room as he pulled on sweats and shook water out of his hair. There Ian was lying down and facing away from him. He knew he was just hurt, and it broke his heart that it was because of him. He crawled into bed pressing his forehead into Ian's back and taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry I fucked everything okay? I really wanna go out with you. We'll go. We'll go tomorrow and everything will be fine."

It was quiet for a minute and then Ian's voice came out soft and brittle.

"I think you should go Mickey." He paused and then continued. "I want you to go. Now."

He hid his face there in the warmth of his back before pushing gently away.

"Okay. We'll talk when I get home, plan a whole bunch of shit for tomorrow alright?"

He got no answer.

His study session was essentially fucked because the whole time he was worried about Ian and the wounded look on his face. Hurting him sucked, and Mickey couldn't help but feel like he'd made the wrong decision. But he got his points and he got the answers to things he been struggling with all semester. It didn't make it any better though. The beer that he brought out did a little bit. It'd been a hard ass semester, one of his hardest yet balancing five classes and work instead of the four he'd had his first three. The information was getting tougher and the finish line seemed so close. He just had to finish. For Ian. For his fucking self. He had to do it.

Every text he sent that night got radio silence in return. The study session lasted a good two and a half hours. They went over a packet that he let them keep. They got in groups and worked out and answers based on what they were struggling with. It was the most helpful information he'd ever received for a class he'd been sure he would fail. The pain of hurting Ian became but a dull throb as he allowed the part of his brain that consumed information take over. He didn't forget what he was going home to though.

He was standing outside on a smoke break when one of the guys from his study group joined him.

"Hey Mickey, we were all thinking of going out after the study session. Get some food, try and forget about the final for a night. You wanna come?"

His name was Jeremy and he was one of the less annoying people in the class as far as Mickey could tell. Brown hair, homey warm brown eyes, and a smile that told you he wasn't nearly as sweet as he was pretending to be. In another life, in another world, maybe a different galaxy even where Ian Gallagher never existed he could see it.

He shook his head exhaling the smoke softly. "Nah man I gotta get home."

"You sure? It'll be fun. I could . . . I could buy you a drink."

Mickey sighed shaking his head. "Thanks but uh . . . I got someone I gotta get home to."

"Ah okay." He smiled softly. "It is a guy though right? I gotta tell you you're hard to read."

He snorted. "Yea it's a guy."

"Good. He's a lucky guy."

"We'll see about that. I'll catch you later yea?"

"Sure."

Mickey stubbed his cigarette out hitching his backpack further up his shoulder as he headed to the car. He knew where he belonged. He knew where he wanted to be.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"Ian?! I'm home!" He called walking into the apartment.

The radiator must've been shot again cause it was surprisingly cold for the near summer weather outside. The kitchen and living room were vacant so he found himself moving back towards the bedroom, which hadn't changed much since he left. Only Ian was waiting for him on the bed eyes on the floor where a bag sat at his feet. His eyes were puffy and he looked really tied. Mickey knelt by his feet trying to make eye contact, trying to see where his head was at.

"You goin' somewhere?" He murmured fingers grazing his chin.

Ian let out a shaky breath flinching at Mickey's touch.

"I think—I need . . . I'm gonna go home. For a little bit." He whispered.

"You are home."

He shook his head sniffling. "No Mick. I think I need to go _home._ "

It hits him hard in a way that takes his breath away. And not in a fucking good way. It was like all his insecurities and all his nightmares coming true at once. The not being good enough, the not being the kind of man Ian needed, how fucked up and inferior he was. And now Ian knew. Ian knew and he was gonna get out and he was gonna leave him and everything he'd worked so hard for was over.

"Ian _what the fuck_? I missed one fucking date."

"It's not just the date. Y—You're different. And you've got so much to focus on and so much to prioritize and it's so clear where I lie in those priorities so I think it'll be best if I just go and help Fiona out with kids for a little bit. Give both of us some space."

"You're the only priority. The only reason I'm doing any of this is for you."

His voice was taking on a desperate like quality that he hated and his mind was scattered and his heart hurt and the only thing he could think was that Ian was leaving him.

"Well maybe you shouldn't." He mumbled looking down. "I don't want you to do something that's gonna eat you up for years and make you so stressed that you can't even function. I don't want you to resent me because I got hurt and you think I don't understand. Do this for you. Every life decision you make can't be because of me Mick. I don't wanna ruin your life."

"You're not ruining anything. Hey look at me." He demanded catching Ian's chin so that their eyes met. "I want you here. It's just a couple more weeks and I'll find a job. This doesn't have to be some huge thing. Don't . . . don't leave me."

Ian's face softened at that. Because of course the realization of what it must look like for Mickey to come home to him sitting there with a bag hadn't dawned on him.

"I'm not leaving you. I just feel like I never see you. And when I'm with you you're not with me you're somewhere else. I just wanna give you time to do this okay? You need time." He assured him.

"I don't want time; I want you." Mickey mumbled hiding his face in Ian's lap.

He wasn't gonna cry cause that just wasn't the fucking kind of couple they were, but god did it hurt. Mickey at twenty-three was a hell of a lot more reasonable than Mickey at eighteen but that didn't make the man a saint. He was still insecure, still confused and still in need of validation. So in that moment, whether it was good or bad for them was irrelevant, all he could focus on was himself and he didn't feel very fucking good.

"W—what about work? How are you gonna get back and forth?"

Ian smiled. "I took the L for eighteen years of my life Mickey I'll be fine. Fiona's worked jobs twice as far. I'm gonna be okay."

It seemed the redhead had thought of everything and that was never a good spot for Mickey to be in because how else was he going to get him to stay.

"You don't have to do this." He told him voice as soft as it ever could get. "You could stay here and we could go out tomorrow and everything would be okay you know? We'd be okay."

Ian's hands came up to frame his face and the warmth of those hands was the most amazing feeling Mickey had ever felt. He'd craved it all his life and now it felt like it was being taken away from him.

"Remember when you sat me down at Options and told me that I needed to go through my recovery for me? And that that was something you couldn't help me through. It was something I had to do for myself? We have to learn to walk on our own. Maybe that's what this is. I—I'm not mad at you Mickey. I love you more than ever and I'm so fucking proud of you, but you gotta go walk on your own. And maybe I need to remember what it's like to rely on myself instead of getting angry at you every time you can't be there."

His fingers trailed over his jaw and down his neck and Mickey couldn't believe he could still make him feel so good. He wasn't quite sure how Ian had become the sensible one in the relationship but apparently there's a time for everything.

"Okay." He mumbled.

"Come here already." Ian sighed pulling him off the floor until their lips were pressed together.

And it was the least stressed he'd felt towards their relationship in months. He couldn't remember the last time they'd kissed simply to feel each other's lips. Couldn't remember touching Ian because it made him feel good and Ian feel good. They'd been so painstakingly distant towards each other and it felt like two worlds finally colliding again. He loved him. And his motivation to finish school hadn't changed it just needed to grow a little bigger.

"That's Lip." Ian groaned against Mickey's lips when a knock came interrupting them.

"Of fucking course it is. Another Gallagher to kick me when I'm down." He huffed pulling away. "Let's get a move on Gallagher."

Ian winced slightly at that, fully aware that he was back to Gallagher in Mickey's eyes and that he probably deserved it. Lip was waiting and Mickey wouldn't look anyone in the eye because he still couldn't quite get over the feeling of embarrassment at Ian leaving. Even his mother had never left his father for whatever fucked up reason. He kind of just wanted to go to bed.

"I'll call you tomorrow? See how work and school went?" Ian asked eyes hopeful and bright.

"Uh huh."

"Okay. Bye Mick."

He ignored all of it just wanting to be alone, and not wanting to have to say goodbye to his boyfriend in front of Phillip Gallagher. They don't say I love you to each other, and if Mickey was being honest he was perfectly okay if that hurt Ian because all the hurt inside of his body was taking over his senses. The wounded look on Ian's face only served to faze him when the door was closed and he could crumble without anyone seeing. It had always seemed to go without question that Ian needed Mickey. When they were young that was his protector, and the person that didn't make him feel like an outsider. What seemed to go unnoticed was just how terribly Mickey needed Ian. As someone to love him. As someone to reassure him and keep his heart warm and intact. That night he just felt hurt and forgotten and quite frankly a little mangled. So no, he didn't have it in him to feel bad for Ian that night. For once it was solely and completely about Mickey. And maybe that's what Ian had wanted all along.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

He left his Building Energy Systems class and Building Envelope Design and Construction with solid As. They were his best classes and even the couple of questions on the finals that had him stumped didn't jeopardize his grade. He spent the weeks apart from Ian studying harder than he ever had before. He studied at work during his lunch break, he studied during red lights on his way to and from class, and he studied during dinner and after his shower. He wondered idly what Terry would think if he saw him. But he knew it wouldn't be pride on his face at his son finally getting his shit together so he didn't dwell on it often.

There were talks of entry-level positions waiting and that if a teacher liked you well enough you might be able to get a recommendation. Mickey didn't trust it, mostly because he was an asshole to most people, and didn't spend nearly enough time trying to get his teachers to understand him like some of the others. He just wanted to get the strongest grades he could and hope that he'd land an interview where he could explain how he went from high school dropout to college grad. It was the only plan he had.

Meanwhile the texts he and Ian shared didn't really show any growth in their relationship. Not that Ian wasn't trying, it had more to do with Mickey being an asshole again. He figured if Ian wanted him to be on his own than he should do that completely. And he didn’t really think it was fair to come home to an empty apartment every night with texts of "how are you" when they both knew he was fucking shitty. But that was just him.

He'd begun an internship designed to give experience before those in his program graduated. It didn't pay though so he was still pulling in hours at the garage. Most days he fell asleep face first in the sheets of his bed barely conscious enough to tell that Ian wasn't there to hold him. It was usually in the morning when his body would forget what his mind was forced to remember. His fingers reached out desperately wanting to intertwine with large freckled hands. His cock would harden so used to their constantly being someone there to take care of it for him.

But there wasn't. He was alone. And all the space he'd been given crushed him in the moments making it difficult to breathe. He'd have done anything to give it all back and mold himself to Ian Gallagher until they were one.

The last two and half weeks of May were all for his finals. He cut back on his hours at the garage and took to selling some shit he'd lifted off Iggy instead. The college crowd was more pills than coke and he made a solid three grand in the time before finals. Ian wasn't there to complaining and it helped to know he wasn't completely removed his roots.

He sat down for his physics final with minimal expectations. He needed a C minus to pass the class, but a B would obviously look better on his grades. He wasn't very picky though. Into to Architectural theory was even more. The guy from before, was his name Johnny maybe, gave him a soft smile that only served to remind him what he'd ended up going home to that night. Cause he knew that it didn't matter; he'd so the same thing over and over again. He was absolutely and ruined for anyone else.

The job offer comes with his A on the hardest final in the bunch. His professor asks him tos tick around while everyone else is trickling out towards freedom at last.

"What's up?" He asked leaning back on a desk.

He already had a cigarette perched perfectly between his teeth needing the release after that fucking test.

"Can I bump one?"

He raised an eyebrow but shrugged handing him a cigarette and tossing him a lighter.

His professor sucked at the nicotine hissing softly. "So there's a job. Looking for an entry-level construction manager. Benefits, dental, medical it's all there. You interested?"

Mickey's eyes widened. "Me? I struggled the whole semester. The fuck you wanna give me a job for?"

He smirked taking another deep drag. "There's not too many changes for people like us."

"People like us?"

"Southside. I recognized the grit and the attitude. Me getting a degree and getting people to take me seriously was the hardest fucking thing I had to conquer. You can do everything right in the world and still no one wants to take a shot on you because of where you come from because they, 'know what your kind is like'. People like us get looked down on; we get judged. Someone gave me a shot and it changed everything. I know maybe you fucked up a couple of times but that doesn't have to be it. You deserve this, you're the hardest fucking worker I had and you don't kiss ass for anything. Starting salary is sixty grand. It's a small job to start you off. What do you say"

"Well fuck man . . . Yea. Fuck yes!"

He laughed a little, eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabbed a piece of aper.

"Call this number tomorrow. Tell 'em Mark sent you. You should have a job lined up after a much needed break huh?"

"Shit, thanks man I don't even know what to say."

"Thanks works. Now get out of my class with that cigarette."

Mickey full-fledged smiled on his way back to his car. He'd done it. And he'd fucking pulled a job out of it all. His whole body tingled at the end, as this realization coursed through him. No one could be more shocked at him that he'd managed to finish college with a three point four GPA. He'd contemplated quitting at least three dozen times. But there he sat. Three As. Two Bs. And a C on a fucking Mickey Milkovich report card. Who could've seen that shit coming?

He drove back towards Canaryville in a bit of a daze. It was barely three in the afternoon but he felt he deserved a drink before dealing with Ian. Passing the streets he'd spent his years being a menace in, he kind of wanted to shout from the roof tops that he hadn't turned out so bad after all. He wasn't the piece of shit spawn from Terry Milkovich he'd always thought he had to be. Some part of him was good, he was sure of it.

"Hey Mickey! Ian's not here." Kev smiled from behind the bar.

"Not here for him. Whisky and a beer wouldn’t hurt though." He grinned taking a seat at the bar.

The smile still tingled at his lips and he wondered if that feeling in his belly was happiness. It felt similar to what Ian had always given him but closer somehow. Like it was all his instead of something to be shared. So when the stool beside him moves as he's taking his first shot he's too wrapped up in his own shit to notice. But that familiar voice rang through call all his senses for just a second.

"The fuck have you been?"

His father looked old. His skin sagged and drooped in certain places and the firm unhappy jut of his lips was covered by the glass of a beer. He looked small now too, less scary when he wasn't looming over him with a dark scowl.

"College." He murmured reaching for his beer.

"College? You any good at it?"

Mickey nodded. "Just finished my last final. Looks like I'm graduating."

"Well shit! My boy graduated? You hear that Kev my boy passed college for Christ's sake. Get us a round huh?"

It'd been so long since he'd been Terry's boy. He was happy. And the boy in Mickey preened at that praise, at the acceptance he so very rarely felt with him. For Terry to look at him like he mattered, for Terry to say he did good made his whole world light up. A piece of him would always yearn to make his father happy. A piece of him would always seek that approval and that love. For just a minute he felt like he was the son he'd always yearned to be. God he just wanted him to be proud enough not to hate him.

It was good. They drink beers back to back and laugh like it's the only thing they know how to do. Terry gripped his shoulders like a father with warmth radiating in the touch. Mickey didn't even flinch at the touch anymore. All his better judgment dried up as they played pool and shared cigarettes. It was everything he'd ever wanted. A dream. And aren't dreams so nice?

"Need you to come with me and Iggy to Indiana. Got some stuff to move." His dad grunted lining up his cue.

"Can't. Gotta stay legal if I'm gonna get this job."

It happened just as fast as it always did and he wondered if he would ever learn. For a college graduate he felt really fucking stupid as his father whipped his pool stick so hard across his hand that he was sure he'd broken the skin. By then his instincts kicked in and he knew to shut down until his father was through his assault. When Terry was nice sometimes he could feel like your best friend. But the very second he got angry you were his enemy and he wouldn't hesitate to fuck you up. Where else could Mickey have gotten it from?

His head slammed into the pool table effectively causing his vision to blur as blood gushed down his face. He punched him offer and over until Mickey fell to the ground in a garbled heap. Just like that; he was broken. Mind, body, and spirit destroyed the way only Daddy could.

"You don't say no to your fuckin' father you piece of shit show some goddamn respect."

He stalked off to get another beer in order to cool himself down as Mickey pulled him up against the table now stained with the dark splatters of his blood. His knuckled ached, eye already swelling, and there was a definite possibility that his nose was broken.

"Mickey you okay?" Kev murmured sending him a sympathetic look as he limped towards the door.

"The fucking faggot's fine. He'll walk it off!" Terry insisted.

Somewhere between the door and the walk to his car Mickey made a decision. Maybe he fucking snapped, but he decided right there he was gonna be happy. He decided the approval he wanted in life didn't need to come from Terry, he didn't want it to either. He hated his father, his abuser, and he hated more than anything that a piece of him would always love him. He was tired of being a punching bag, tired of all the submission. He wanted to prove him wrong. His knuckles were red and raw as they clenched around the baseball bat from his car. He'd deal with that later.

"Oh Mickey no." Kevin groaned as he noticed him at the door.

Terry turned, a grin already plastered thick onto his thin lips. As the bat hit his jaw a beautiful distinctive crunch rung in Mickey's ear and he swore it was like heaven. A couple of guys rushed to interfere but he immediately pointed his weapon in their direction.

"Back the FUCK up!"

Maybe it was the look in his eyes that kept them away as he sent another rough swing as his father's ribs. Maybe on some deep level every person in that room understood it for one reason or another. He was just grateful for the opportunity to kick back the person who'd been knocking him down for years.

"You little shit." He winced keeling over.

"What? I'm just doing what you taught me Daddy!" Mickey insisted going at his knees with the bat. "This makes me a man right? I'm taking care of shit RIGHT?!"

Another distinctive blow to the face drew blood and he kind of lost it from there. Just kept going and going wanting him to feel the way he'd felt his whole life. He wanted all the ugly inside of him to come out and plague someone else for a change.

"I'm a cock loving bitch of a bottom you hear me?! Aint shit you could ever do about it neither. Been with the same guy eleven years. I used to fuck him on the couch where you spent a majority of the time you worthless sack of shit! And he gave me it to good and hard and I fucking love it."

Another hit.

"I'm a faggot."

Another one.

"And I fucking love that shit!"

His hands began to tremble and his eyes started to burn. The resolve crumbled and he knew he was losing it. So he let Kev pull him off leaving his dad bloody and mangled on the ground. He wasn't even talking at that point and there was a wet gurgling noise coming from his throat. Mickey didn't stay around to see much else.

The bat hit the seat next to him as he slid into the truck. It was bloody, so were his hands which shook around the steering wheel the struggle to calm himself hitting hard at his chest. When he looked in the rearview mirror he noticed he was covered in his dad's blood. His eyes were wide and petrified refusing to shrink even a little. So the entire time he drove struggling to blink, struggling to breathe. Something was loosening in his chest but it still hurt. It hurt really fucking bad.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Ian had to leave thirty minutes early for the L to get to work on time. He'd fed Liam and got him on the bus for school before grabbing his gym bag and heading for the door. It was when he turned around that he saw Mickey sitting on the hood of his truck. His heart seemed to beat louder and harder in that moment then it had since he'd left. He found himself dropping his bag and running straight for him as a smile grew wide upon his face.

The smile left the second he took in his boyfriend. His knuckles were red and swollen blood staining the skin and he threw a baseball bat back and forth. The bat too was covered in crimson. His eye was swollen, nose blue and bloody and he was most definitely shaking. Everything about him was so fragile in that moment. Ian had never yearned to take care of him so badly.

"Mick," He whispered approaching him slowly. "Mickey what happened?"

He shrugged ignoring tears as they rolled across his beautiful pale cheeks.

"Terry."

Ian took a huge breath as the anxiety filled him. His fingers were soft as he reached for Mickey's hands but he wouldn't let go out of the bat, like he constantly needed to be alert.

"We need to get you cleaned up, get you to the doctor so they can make you all better again. Come inside."

He shook his head roughly fingers growing unnaturally tight around the bat.

"I wanna go home. I wanna go home Ian. Please come home." His voice shook and trembled.

"Okay. Shhh it's okay I'm right here." He told him pressing their foreheads press together.

Mickey's tears dripped onto Ian's face the pain of every drop soaking into his skin. The older man closed his eyes and sighed a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a sob he couldn't fight, air choking him.

"I can't come back. Never again. Don't make me come back."

"Shhhh it's okay. You never have to come back alright? Let me get you home."

His voice was the soft lullaby that had scared away all the bad dreams of his life, all the nightmares of his childhood. He was safe. He was loved. Because Ian told him so.

"Our home okay?" He mumbled looking up at him with scared blue eyes.

"Our home."

He dropped the baseball and let Ian get him into the car. They don’t talk, but Mickey ignores the seatbelt and crawls to Ian's side wrapping himself around one of his arms like a monkey. The warmth of his touch is infinite, and thinks that he can finally leave his dad behind. They go home after that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my goodness y'all i'm back! sorry for the delay buti hope this chapter kind of makes up for it? It's angsty for sure i know but i gotta tell you i loved writing this. Something i was interested in was "okay how do Ian and Mickey keep a relationship going for eleven years?" "how do they continue to love and want and not be boring?" I never want them to seem plain or vanilla because i think that's very much the heart of gallavich that has so many people convinced that their end game. I know for a fact that school is a hard, and i know for a fact how hard it can be to go out and do something every day that you think you're no good at. Mickey just wants to pay the bills and take care of his boyfriend. but i also i know sometimes you just wanna be wanted. You don't wanna talk about school or your mental stability you wanna be wined and dined, you want someone to fucking touch your soul. There comes a point where the relationship is line two lines that aren't quite meeting no matter how hard they reach for each other. and so when Ian leaves it's kind of this realization that they're not at the same place and maybe they have to do this on there on. The beautiful thing to me, the thing that i loved endlessly about Ian and Mickey, is that they always come back to each other in the end. i think that's why i added the bit of jeremy because i just love knowing that Mickey knows his man and all he wants is his man. The thing Terry is also very important to me. I leave it very open ended for a reason, but i think no matter what story you try to tell anything even remotely canon with Mickey has to have that moment of confrontation with Terry. He has to face his abuser and has to come to this point where he stops living for his father's approval. as much as he was all think Mickey hates him i think there's a big piece of him that will always love Terry. I've found that people often times do love their abusers, and i think that self-confliction has to come to a head for him and so i really loved writing it. 
> 
>  
> 
> ANYWAY sorry for rambling i really hoped y'all liked it and i hope you leave fluffy comments and tell me all yours thoughts cause i love your thoughts k? k. 
> 
> comments and kudos are loved. 
> 
> Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me: zankivich.tumblr.com


	18. Home Sweet Home

Ian is twenty-four when Mickey turns twenty-six and buys them a house. Debbie was off in Michigan at college. Carl was taking courses at a community college and transferring to a full university next fall. Liam was doing well in school, and despite everyone's concerns had begun talking normally with a little bit of help from a speech teacher. Fiona had a steady job at some company and with only her, Liam, and Carl at home wasn't struggling to keep the heat on every winter. Lip was a part of some building team creating a robot to do some crazy shit somewhere and just sent steady checks home that Fiona would trade any day to actually see him. The Gallaghers had grown up. It was weird and scary and Ian had never thought it would really and truly happen, yet there he sat on a Saturday morning setting his boyfriend's breakfast from his favorite diner up the street off to the side so he could crawl into _their_ bed and give some bomb ass birthday head. It was like his own better version of I Love Lucy.

Mickey woke up to a beautiful suction on his dick that could only be the lips of Ian Gallagher. There's nothing better than birthday head. It's like the fucking Halloween of wake ups; it's wonderful. Ian gripped his hips sucking him down like nobody's business and swallowing as he came with a mangled shout. Best wakeup call ever.

"Mmm happy birthday." Ian mumbled teeth scraping along the jutting bone on his hip.

"Jesus. You gonna come up here anytime soon?"

He grinned stalking upwards like a lion going after a gazelle. A very pale gazelle with a plump ass out of this world.

"Mick I just sucked your dick I know you're old now but could you try not to start complaining before the early bird's special?"

"Fuck you!" Mickey snorted kneeing him playfully. "I'm the goddamn birthday boy you gotta do what I want."

"Yea? And what's the birthday boy want?"

His voice was husky and warm and it did very bad things to Mickey's heart. Mickey reached up wrapping his legs around the small of Ian's back with a hungry look in his eyes. Ian was in the middle of becoming a certified fitness trainer and his workouts were doing great things for Mickey. Like making him look like some greek god, and giving him the stamina to go three and four times in the sac. Those were very, _very_ good things for Mickey.

He was determined to show him he wasn't old. Then again he was the goddamn birthday boy and he shouldn't have to lift a finger on his special day. Fuck his insistence that he was old; Mickey was a well-oiled machine that deserved to be lifted and rammed. Ian supplied that pretty well.

Their bed was old and rickety and Ian's hips were fucking diabolical. So when Mickey told him he wanted to be tossed around a little, wanted it rough and hard that's what he gave them. But one can only go so rough on a broken frame. Mickey was on his knees holding onto the headboard with Ian's fingers intertwined with him crying out as Ian slammed into them. Whoever was next door was getting their own little wakeup call and neither of them could find it in them to care.

"Arch your back for me?" Ian grunted hips picking up speed.

Mickey groaned doing as he was asked and pushing himself back onto the girth of his boyfriend's cock.

"Shit. That's so fucking good."

Ian kept going reaching down to grip at the delightful curve of Mickey's ass. He could feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine and he refused to come first. He let his fingers wrap firm and tight around Mickey's cock shifting his hips until he found the magic button to making Mickey come undone.

"F—Fuck! Right there right there right fucking there holy shit!" He mewled at his prostate was hammered.

Ian's fingers were in his hair fingers turning into a blur around his cock as he fucked him like he was angry at him. And for the most beautiful, majestic second their bodies locked as Ian pushed forward hard enough to send their mattress through the frame and onto the floor. Their orgasms pulsed through them in waves each of them huffing and puffing through a blissful daze.

"Well shit. I wish every day was my fucking birthday." Mickey grinned collapsed on their now broken bed.

Ian snorted. "Glad I could be of service to you."

"Not service." He mumbled pulling Ian to him with jelly like arms. "Just good. You're good."

They kissed then, deep lingering presses of their tongues arms line vines entrapping themselves together.

"I got you breakfast from the diner." Ian whispered between kisses. "And I'm gonna pick up your cake today. And I wanna take you out to lunch." More kissing. "Mmm and dinner." Another one. "And dessert on the floor now that we've broken our bed."

Mickey grinned nuzzling himself into the crook of Ian's neck where no one could see his cheeks burn.

"'S just a birthday Ian. Nothing special."

"You're special." He disagreed.

They ate breakfast on the couch together in their boxers because Mickey hated sitting at the table for some reason and Ian just wanted to make him super happy. After a rough couple months dealing with the adjustment of Mickey's new job and the aftermath of Terry they'd finally settled into a routine. Mickey was happy with his job and Ian was the proudest fucking boyfriend ever. He didn't mind at all that it made Mickey the sole bread winner in a way just as long as he was happy.

Their relationship had been a bit of a problem because they weren't married. And insurance didn't usually work very well with non-married couples let alone the same-sex ones despite how greatly the laws had changed. It also didn't help that Ian was bipolar. After a talk with his therapist they'd decided that it would be easier if Mickey handled their finances. Mickey convinced him to keep an account for himself for his job thought because he felt like shit putting all Ian's money away in an account he couldn't touch like he was a fucking child. And he always kept him in the loop on things to make him feel less pathetic about his brain. He was perfect, obviously. Mickey had managed to get them both of his company's insurance though Ian would never be able to tell how. It was just one of those grown up things.

In the past few years they'd made major steps in their relationship as adults. Ian still knew better than to get his hopes up of course. Mickey was usually difficult about commitment stuff, thought they'd been together over a decade. So when he brought it up, Ian was more than a little surprised.

"You wanna move?" He'd asked stretching like a cat on top of Ian despite the creak of their mangled bed.

"Move? Like . . . move, move?"

"Yea. We been here for like six years now right? Neighbors are annoying as shit. Mandy hasn't tried to move back in in like two. Radiators breaks at least once a week. And all your family is finally doing their own things. What's really keeping us here?"

Ian's chin jutted out as he took it all in slowly nodding at he accepted Mickey's words.

"Hmmm guess you got a point. Where do you wanna move to?" He smiled reaching to run his hands along Mickey's body.

"How do you feel about New York?"

"New York?"

Mickey smiled sheepishly. "Got a job offer. They want me to start with managing the construction of a mall. Money's better than what I'm making now. Just thought . . .  I don't know I'm twenty-six maybe it's time for a change."

Ian nodded way more calm than Mickey had expected.

"Not me though right?"

"Nah I for some reason wanna keep your ugly mug around." Mickey smirked kissing him softly.

"Good." He grinned. "Can I think about it?"

"'Course. Don't wanna talk about this boring shit on my birthday anyway."

He pulled Ian in or a kiss so that neither of them was thinking about anything but the other. They spent the morning curled up on the couch kissing and touching and completely ignoring the TV. Mickey wasn't for much for dramatics and growing up birthdays were never a big deal in his house. He much preferred a day of relaxation . . . and kissing . . . and butt stuff. Lots and lots of butt stuff.

"I got weed from Iggy. He's said it's from someone named Mark and that you would appreciate it more than anything else."

"Oh shit Marky Mark's still selling? This is the best shit I ever smoked."

And the best it was. High, starving, and happy as any fucker could be they went to dinner eating three backs of bread each before the appetizer had even come. They laughed and made fun of each other just having a good time. Ian had gotten him a Dairy Queen ice-cream cake and that shit was almost gone in less than an hour. It was kind of the best birthday ever in Mickey's opinion. But what came next was a whole lot better.

"You ready for your present?" Ian asked once the high had eased off and they were a little more coherent.

"Told you not get me anything man."

He smirked. "I know but this is just as much for me as it is for you. Go lay down and wait for me?"

"Yea okay?" Mickey mumbled knowingly, practically running for the bedroom.

He may or may not have sung to himself a little tune as he worked to unwrap the best present of all. Himself.

"Gonna get laid. Gonna get laid. Yess I am 'bout to get laaaaaaid." He sang tonelessly.

He slid into bed on his back, the cool sheets feeling good on his already flushed skin. Ian never had to do much for Mickey to be into it. Usually just looking at him got him into it. Fucker was way too perfect for his own good.

"You undressed for me." Ian sighed happily appearing in the door way with a magical glint in his eye. "Such a good boy for me aren't you?"

It was an unspoken thing between the two of them that Mickey liked to be praised in bed. It more than likely stemmed from his childhood and never finding approval from his father and blah blah blah, but Mickey preferred to not think of his dad ever let alone during sex. Instead he let Ian do his thing, because that always meant pleasure for the both of them.

Mickey watched as Ian took of his t-shirt letting the pale chiseled flesh out into the air. He was really way too beautiful for words. Looking at him was like a blessing and a curse.

"Turn over for me."

A whine got stuck in his throat at the sight of him still in the khakis Ian had worn to the restaurant but he didn't argue. Ian crawled till he was straddling Mickey's back, the warmth and weight of his body sinking heavenly into Mickey's bones. He loved the dominance, craved the tender yet aggressive tone that Ian always had. His lips trailed over Mickey's spine fingers slipping softly over the skin.

"You're beautiful you know that?" He hummed. "So fucking beautiful."

Mickey shoved his face deeper into the pillow before him as if even face down Ian could see him face heat at the words. That wasn't a word he'd ever associate with himself. Not even out of self-loathing but just because it felt obvious when looking at this love of his life that he was so much more than what Mickey deserved. So no, he would probably never find himself beautiful, but he had a feeling that there, nestled in a shitty apartment in sheets they'd bought together, was as close as he would ever feel.

Soft, openmouthed kisses littered Mickey's skin as Ian moved the sheets out of his way. He seemed hell bent on taking things as slowly as humanely possible, much to Mickey's annoyance. His tongue was wicked licking into any crevice of Mickey's skin he could find. Every shiver and tremble of his body Ian felt fingers running over the skin of his hips with a tightening grip.

 Teeth scraped at the curve of one of his ass cheeks drinking in the gasp from the older man's lips. Ian loved the ass that that man possessed. It was truly the best ass he'd ever seen. And he'd seen some pretty good asses; he liked to think at least. But Mickey's was the best in every way. When he bit it there was instantly a mark imprinted there on his pasty flesh. And he'd groan causing his cheeks to wiggle and shit if that didn't get Ian going. And the feel . . . the absolute verbal pleasure that burst from him like a prayer when he ate him out was one of the most intense things Ian had ever felt.

"Jesus Ian." He huffed voice muffled by the pillow.

"Uh uh let me hear you. I can't give you your present if I can't hear you." He insisted digging back in to lap at the skin with his tongue.

And of course Mickey could never keep still. His hips bucked and his spine slithered as he moaned and withered on the bed. His ass took whatever it was given. A tongue. A finger. Three. A prostate massager.

"Oh shit. What the fuck is that?" Mickey grunted feeling the smooth silicone enter him.

"Shhh." Ian whined absolutely dazed as the black curved toy inserted him.

He didn't wait very long before turning it on. His excitement may have gotten the better of him.

"Oh my god."

Ian grinned. "Happy birthday."

For a second he was nervous. The reviews he'd read on it said it more of an intermediate toy and seeing as how it was their first he was worried Mickey wouldn't be able to handle it. But people had also praised the damn thing like it was the Jesus of prostate massagers and seeing as how his boyfriend seemed to be literally shaking before him, he found it difficult to regret the decision.

"I—Ian!"

His fingers were clutched in the sheets, the bottom half of his body sometimes coming completely off the bed as the toy wrecked him. Ian had never seen anything like it. Had never seen Mickey fail so completely to keep himself calm during sex. He always lost it, but never like that.

"Oh my god that feels so fucking good! Fuck. Fuck Ian." He whined.

His fingers twitched at the base turning it up three settings. And that was all she wrote.

"Shit! I—I can't ungh fuck fuck I'm gonna—YES!"

He came so hard it somehow managed to get on his face and in his hair. It was the hottest thing Ian had seen in a while. And the fact that he got to lick it up didn't go unnoticed to Mickey either.

"Oh fuck look at you." He chuckled breathlessly. "Get up here goddammit."

It was a night neither of them could really afford to forget. A happy fucking birthday it was.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Gallagher Sunday dinners got harder over the years. Mostly because everyone was finally off doing their own thing and couldn't really make it back. Every tried to show up at least once a month, except Debbie who just came back for holidays due to school, and the happiness that showed on Fiona's face made it all worth it. That Sunday it was Carl, Liam, Fiona, Mickey and Ian, and Lip who was gracing them with his presence for the first time in almost five months. They started eating at diners and restaurants after Ian explained Mickey could no longer come back to the Southside.

"Hey Mickey." Carl smirked cracking the cap on a beer.

Mickey took it out of the boy's hand tilting it back to take a gulp as he ignored everyone else getting reacquainted.

"Hey kid. You staying out of trouble?"

Carl sighed staring wistfully at the beer. "Yea. Not much to do to get my rocks off anymore. Fi won't even let me set things on fire, I feel like I'm itching."

"Why don't you just fuck someone like a normal twenty-one year old?" He snorted.

"Is that what you did?"

"Yea but I've been fucking the same person for like fourteen years or some shit; I'm boring as fuck. You probably got a weird ass kink too just go out and find somebody. Focus on school during the day, fuck like a rabbit during the night. That's what I did. Especially by like second semester when your brain starts to feel like it's melting? Fucking relieves all stresses. It keeps you levelheaded man."

Carl nodded seeming to be deep in thought at what Mickey had said.

"Mickey what the fuck are you teaching Carl?" Fiona yelled appearing beside him out of nowhere.

He shrugged. "Use a condom if it's a chick. And don't think pulling out works neither. See? Could raise a kid myself it's so easy."

Fiona laughed. "Oh yea. Just give 'em a box of condoms and thrust them out into the world that's how you do it."

"No I think he might be right. I'm gonna go ask Ian!" Carl murmured excitingly dashing towards the redhead.

Mickey ex-con advice? Check.

Everyone sat down to eat a meal cooked for them. It still felt weird to be at a place that served food that wasn't McDonalds. They all sometimes felt itchy, like they were pretending to be something they weren't.

"Why is my little brother saying you told him to ask me how we fuck when we're bored?" Ian whispered in his ear.

Mickey shrugged. "Told you the kid was crazy."

Ian shoved him chuckling a little bit as they all dug in.

It started as the usual catch up. Lip talked about whatever he was working on at the time in his fancy offices. Carl talked about school even if it was just to complain about school for a while. Liam smiled wide and bright telling them all how much he was enjoying the fifth grade and all the books he was reading. Normal stuff. Like hey we're thinking about moving to New York.

"So uh me and Mick were thinking . . . you know since everyone's got their own stuff going on. That maybe it might be time for a change."

Mickey peered over at him with raised eyebrows. They hadn't discussed bringing it up at dinner, Ian hadn't even brought it up since Mickey had asked him about it.

"What kind of change?" Fiona asked staring them both curiously.

"Moving somewhere new."

Mickey kept his eyes on his food moving potatoes into lumps on his plate. That only served to make Fiona more suspicious.

"Somewhere new like where? Northside? Back of the yards maybe?"

Ian smiled sheepishly at her. "Actually we uh were thinking of New York."

Her eyes widened to the size of glaciers and the whole table grew silent.

"New York?!"

Going toe to toe with Fiona was rarely a good idea, but Ian figured if he was gonna move to a new state as an adult then he had to stop being so afraid of her. So he grabbed at Mickey's hand threading their fingers for warmth and strength as he turned his stare on her.

"Mick got a job offer. The pay is good Fi, real good. And we've been staying in the same shitty apartment we could afford on drug money and the Alibi for six years now. I'm good mentally and emotionally and physically again. I'm twenty-four you know and Mickey's twenty-six now? All grown up. Maybe it's time we go out on our own. For real this time. Maybe it's time we expand on our life together."

Her angry face turned sad, eyes wide and doe like threatening Ian to say another word. Those eyes were the fucking worst. Diabolical is what they were.

A part of Fiona had held onto the fact that Ian could always come home. Yea he lived thirty minutes away, yea he had his own place with Mickey and wasn't doing pull ups in her bathroom doorway anymore. But at the end of the day she'd held onto the safety net of him always being able to come back. He was her little brother but in a multitude of ways he was like her son, and the thought of him leaving home, home, was the most devastating thing she could think of. It didn't help that Debbie had already left for Michigan for school, and this probably felt like losing another piece of herself.

The dinner table was quiet for a minute except for the sound of forks and knives on plate. Fiona wasn't eating so much as moving things around on her plate as she tried to think of way to get him to stay. She realized that anything she threw at Ian would come right back in her face, but maybe there was someone else she could get to through association. Mickey.

"So what's your plan?"

Mickey and Ian looked up at the same time eyeing each other before turning back to her.

"What do you mean?" Ian spoke for the both of them.

"Well your twenty-four and twenty-six. You're right it's time to stop playing games. Are you gonna get married? Have you talked about kids? Picked out a house? What's the goal here you two?"

Ian was at a loss for words, a fact very scary to Mickey because that fucker was never silent. And Mickey could feel the heat bubbling beneath his cheeks and in his ears, could feel the nerves that twisted like tree roots within his gut. It was horrible for someone to bring up something in your relationship that you and your partner had never once spoken about. It was absolutely terrible for that someone to do it front of said partner's entire family at a fucking dinner table.

"You're really kind of a bitch."

"Mick…." Ian sighed tossing down his napkin.

"Nah I'm kind of over your fucking mind games where you try to scare us into doing what you want us to do like we're fucking ten and eight still. You think I'm fucking stupid? That every word that just came out of your mouth wasn't calculated to scare the shit out of us? Fuck you. I didn't sit in a goddamn psych ward for two months watching him piece himself back together again to not take care of what I got. This?" He spat using his fork to wave back and forth from him to Ian. "This is fucking it. He's family. You don't leave family. You don't turn your back on family. That's it. We're moving to New York and that's final, you wanna make sure your brother wants nothing to do with your treacherous ass afterwards be my fucking guest, I'll be in the car."

He dropped his fork to the plate with a loud clink before storming out of the restaurant with a vengeance. One thing Fiona hadn't accounted for was that Mickey Milkovich was the only person she knew who didn't take any of her shit and the only one vocal enough to call her out on it and make it hurt. She stared at the family around her and knew that none of them agreed with her. But the look on Ian's face, a look of confusion and hurt and irritation broke her heart. She hated hurting her little brother and yet she always seemed to be the one shoving the knife in.

"Really tired of being taken advantage of Fi. Really fucking tired." He whispered standing up from the table. "I'll see you guys later."

"I—Ian please." She choked but he just shook his head following Mickey out.

Mickey was leaning against the car lighting a cigarette. Fall was in full force a cold chill settling over the neighborhood. Ian stepped tiredly down the steps with his hands in his pockets stepping up so his shoulder was pressed fully against Mickey's.

"You really mean what you said in there?" Ian asked softly.

Mickey snorted. "What you want me to do man, profess my love for you in front of the whole city or somethin'?"

"No." He murmured shyly kicking his foot out. "Just know you say things in the heat of the moment sometimes."

And so quickly it took Ian's breath away Mickey shifted till he was pressing Ian into the car and grabbing his face roughly in his own hands.

"You're a fucking idiot if you think I've ever looked at someone else the way I look at you. Ain't shit else I want alright? I'm here so get that stupid shit out of your head."

Ian smiled goofily letting out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"That's the most romantic thing you've ever said to me."

"Oh jesus." Mickey scoffed pulling away. "I got a full-fledged sap on my hands."

"You should probably get used to it. Not going anywhere." He smiled throwing his arms back around Mickey.

It felt nice to hear. Better than either of them could've imagine.

"Yea okay. Let's get the fuck back home, place is making me itch."

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

The first time Mickey takes Ian to New York is when snow is already starting to fall. It's much prettier than the snow in Chicago, at least in Ian's opinion, and Mickey can't help but feel like he has a tourist on his hands. Granted he only lived in New York for six years of his life, Ian acted as if he was the know all guide of New York. They had a list of places they were going to see and Mickey had a final interview with the people at the company for the mall. They'd taken time off and flew in together, staying at the most decent hotel either of them had ever seen in their whole lives. It left them floundering a little bit. Each of them knew the extent to which their money situation had changed over the years, but to see it in terms of things they'd never thought they'd be able to do was crazy and maybe a little humbling.

"We could get like a big loft you know." Ian suggested as they got ready for bed fresh off the plane.

"Yea?"

"Uh huh. Like one of those huge open spaces with like wood floors and brick and wide windows." He imagined grabbing for Mickey's hips. "It'll be just you and me now. No siblings to interrupt. No neighbors. We'd be like actually alone."

Mickey smiled softly. "That why you agreed to move without telling me first?"

"Kinda. I mean I was sitting there looking at everyone and it just occurred to me that I wasn't really needed. Look at Carl he's twenty-one and his most pressing questions are about something normal like sex for a change. I never had to worry about Debs. Liam is kicking ass in school. Lip's probably gonna create artificial intelligence or some weird shit. Fiona, still pisses me off to this day, but she's been fine for years now. They've all got their own shit now, what do they need me for?"

"I don't know about that. Maybe they just need you a little less now."

He nodded. "And that's okay. But I've got you. And we're not getting any younger. It could be fun just do whatever the hell we want without Fiona or someone being able to check in."

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about I am a fresh peach."

Ian chuckled pulling his boyfriend in for a kiss. There were no better words to describe Mickey Milkovich.

They see all kinds of places while they're there. Big houses with shaggy carpet and too many bedrooms. Apartments that are too similar to home. Condos and lofts. Ian liked the lofts. Of course he liked the lofts.

There was one place in particular Mickey could tell he wanted. It was all brick and wide windows exactly how Ian described. It had two levels and the lady who showed them the place explained that they could turn the whole second level into their bedroom like past residents had. Mickey was sure it didn't hurt that there was a gym around the corner. He took a final look around at his new home that he would live in with his boyfriend. There was no darkness here. No worrisome footsteps trudging along the floor in thought. No blood on the floor or tears in the sheets. His dad couldn't touch them and Southside couldn't touch them. It was really the start over he'd yearned for along.

"You wanna stay the rest of the trip or head back early and start packing?" Mickey asked him with a subtle smirk.

Ian's eyes widened. "You mean?"

"She said we can come by and sign the lease tomorrow. It's ours if you want it."

"Mickey!" He gasped throwing himself at his boyfriend. "Of course I want it. I—I mean do you? It's it okay with you, did you love it? Cause if not, i—if you don't we can—"

He hushed him with a kiss rubbing warm circles into his hips with his thumbs.

"You're rambling. Yes I liked it. Think it'll be good for us ya know?"

Ian grinned. "Yea, me too."

It was really kind of that simple. Sure they had a hell of a lot of packing to do and Ian had to get all of his medical stuff transferred. Dr. Adams referred him to of her colleagues in New York but their goodbye was a little hard on Ian, and a little harder on Dr. Adams. Maybe a little too hard.

"I'm gonna miss you so much." She cried into Ian's shoulder at their last visit.

"Me too."

They were hugging each other so tight that if Mickey wasn't so confident of Ian's love for dick, specifically his, he might be worried. The whole crying fest wasn't really his thing, but he understood it. In fact he probably couldn't have asked for someone better to take care of Ian in the way he couldn't. if anything he was weary of this new person fucking things up.

"I'm so proud of you." She murmured feverently hands gripping Ian's cheeks. "You’ve come a long way and you have yourself to thank. Your recovery has been an amazing thing to be a part of and I only wish you even more success moving forward. You're gonna do great Ian."

"Okay." He whispered shyly.

He seemed to seep into her praise letting the words warm his body as if they were only true once she spoke them. They'd been together since he was seventeen; he would never forget everything she'd given him. He'd never forget her.

"Now Mickey Milkovich I know you don't think you're leaving here without hugging me."

Mickey winced. "Ah shit let's get this over with doc."

She wrapped her arms tight around him letting her lips touch his ear with a gentle hum.

"I knew you were never gonna come see me, but I do know a lot of what happened and so I want you to know you're an amazing man Mickey. I rarely see anyone take care of somebody with this disorder the way you do, with such ferocity as you did. You've got a beautiful heart and it's okay that only the people close to you get to see that. What you've done with your life is all you and no one gets to ever take that away from you, you understand? You did good Mickey."

He closed his eyes overwhelmed with the comfort her words brought. They very rarely talked about those months apart, the day at the alibi where Ian had to wash the blood away, the day with his dad and the prostitute. But she knew, maybe the only other person in the world who did and he found himself perfectly content with that. She didn't judge him. She understood. And all of that had him hugging her way tighter than he ever thought he would.

"Thanks." he mumbled. "For everything."

She nodded pulling away with tears in her eyes and a hand on his cheek. She told them they were the reason she did what she did, for moments like that one right there. And boy did they appreciate it.

That was only the beginning of the tears. Their going away party was thrown at the bar on their side of town and everyone showed up to bid them farewell, everyone that mattered anyway. It was weird because most of the people there should've felt like they were there for Ian. Mickey had never had any other friends going up, hadn't needed or wanted any, and he sure as hell didn't have any real family but Mandy and she had fucked off to rediscover herself or something so he rarely even heard from her anymore. It should've felt like he was alone, like the only person he had in his life was Ian, and he was taking him away from all that and it did.

But then Carl and Debbie showed up throwing their arms around him for a solid two minutes. And Kevin clapped him on the back, and Vee hugged him till her tits were squished against his chest. Liam climbed into his lap and made him promise to let him visit him and Ian; he hugged him too. Dr. Adams, who he was sure Ian had invited, bought him a beer and smiled as wide as she could. Lip gave him the nod and shoulder punch that said, "if we didn't have a reputation to uphold I might not hate you" and he felt like the feeling was almost mutual. And then there was Fiona.

He'd been outside smoking and minding his own business when she came and sat by him nudging their shoulders softly.

He peered over at her eyebrow raised. "What you here to proposition me to get Ian to stay?"

She shook her head eyes glistening. "I'm here to tell you how much I'm gonna miss you you fucking dickhead."

"Oh god."

She giggled wrapping her arms around one of his head and wild, untamed curls spreading out upon his shoulder.

"Oh Mickey . . . I remember when I first met you. Ian insisted he had met the bestest person in all of the world and that this kid loved batman too and he ran super-duper fast and was the funniest person ever. And then you show up, with this little scowl and hair all crazy and I thought you might be trouble. I didn't know you guys yet, even though later you were definitely trouble." He snorted. "But I walked past Ian's room and you guys were building a fort together and you had the biggest smile on your face. Really even bigger than Ian's it was insane. And to this day I've never seen anyone look at anyone the way you look at him. I know I was a bitch a lot of times ya know? I know I did stuff that was bad and I know I hurt both of you. But I just want you to know that there's no doubt in my mind that Ian's as safe as he could ever be with you. I'm so proud of the both of you and I'm so… so, so grateful Mickey that he has you. You make him happy and that's the only thing I've ever wanted for any of them. So just thank you alright? For everything you've ever done for us. It might not seem like it but I really do appreciate it and you."

He peered over at her, cigarette long forgotten and nodded ever so slightly.

"You know you were kind of like an older sister to me too? I mean I used to spend more time there than at home when my dad was on his shit and you . . . you never turned me away. Or made me stop hanging out with him when the neighborhood decided me and my family were scum. Kinda made me feel a part of something."

"Like a family?" She guessed.

"Sure whatever. Just thanks alright."

"No problem. You always got a family with us Mickey. You're our adopted Gallagher."

"Oh jesus, lucky me." He muttered.

She leaned over there lying a wet obnoxious kiss on his cheek.

"Love you Mickey. Now come inside before you die of frost bite and I came up with that speech for nothing."

At the heart of it was this really annoying boy. He stood smiling and laughing and making small talk with everyone. But then Mickey walked in and the second he caught sight of him it was like he just captured all his attention. It was like he was _important._ He felt loved when looked at Ian. He felt loved and wanted and cared for and fucking sexy if he really thought about it. God Ian Gallagher gave him everything. A family. And friends. And hope. But the most important thing he ever gave him was himself and his love. There was truly nothing else on the planet that Mickey could ever want more than that.

So as great as family was, that next morning when they were tired and hung over and freezing their nuts off in a car to drive to New York there was nothing better than being alone. They were forging their own path. Deciding the very lives they wanted to live. But the beautiful part about it was that they were living those lives together.

Ian scooted close to Mickey with a blanket and cold large hands. His lips nuzzled against his neck and shoulder as he drove and the smile on Mickey's face was effervescent. 800 miles to go. But home was right in that car. Just as long as they were together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See?! Not even that late! I really hope you guys like it. Everyone pretty much unanimously decided that they would really enjoy a story that went through their whole lives together. (I'm still not sure about this I'm just writing as i go)So I'm just kind of trying to branch out and show all these different aspects of their life together. I hope it's not boring and i hope you guys enjoy it!   
> As usual kudos and comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Find me at:  
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	19. The Kids are Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is twenty-seven. Ian is twenty-five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are a couple trigger warnings here so i just wanna give people a heads up to look at end notes first.

Mickey is twenty-seven by the time he feels at home in New York. He managed the building of a mall, and then a school, and some apartment buildings. Life was good in the work department. Ian had been so excited to start their new lives together in New York in this home that each of them really, really loved. So their loft with all the boxes and their bedroom which was just a huge wide open space for their bed and a window for the moon to spill out on them during the night was beautiful. They started from scratch going out on weekend mornings together to find random pieces of furniture until it felt like a home, until it felt like them.

Living near the city, gave the same chaotic sort of feel of Southside and it made the transition easier on both of them. But still it was quieter than either of them homes had ever been growing up, and they reveled in just being alone. Especially the first couple months. Mickey was surprised they found time to eat. Ian loved to wake up and initiate lazy morning sex that wasn't lazy at all and really turned into the Olympics for dick. They were the best months of Mickey's life in a way. He felt like he really had Ian all to himself for the first time. Waking up to someone you love loving you physically and mentally every morning was something he'd never thought to ask for, but something he was damn sure happy he had. It was something he knew he could never take advantage of no matter what.

"You sure you're not getting bored of me yet?" Ian whispered one morning when neither of them had work and life was a beautiful array of cigarettes, sunshine, and silence.

Mickey snorted. "You don't think I would've gotten tired of you a little sooner than sixteen years jackass? Fuck that I'm adding since we met, which means I've known your ass for twenty years and if that smile was gonna do me in it would've happened by now."

"You love my smile."

"Or your humility, I think I love that most of all. Or maybe it's your terrible jokes or nagging to get me to quit smoking. I suppose you could take your pick."

Ian was quiet for a moment, long enough that Mickey questioned whether he'd managed to stick his foot in his mouth and upset him, before speaking out quietly.

"I's just wonderin'." He mumbled tracing patterns in Mickey's bare skin. "Sixteen years is a long time let alone twenty."

"Ain't goin anywhere Ian." He reminded him mundanely.

They'd been over this before.

"You know you have a choice don't you?"

Mickey raised an eyebrow because Ian had never used that tactic before.

"Excuse me?"

"I just . . . I don't want you to think you have to stick around cause I was the first person to care. There's plenty of other guys who would care. Plenty of other guys who would love you senseless. You're so easy to love Mick."

"The fuck are you getting at here? It's the crack ass of dawn and you wake me up for sex and this is the pillow talk you wanna have? I thought we were good."

Ian smiled over at him but there was a sadness in his eyes.

"We are good. You just deserve so much; I don't want you to think you're stuck with me because you're too afraid to leave. If you ever . . . if this is ever not what you want I want you to know I would never keep you from leaving. Even though it would be the worst pain ever I would do that . . . for you."

Mickey stared at him flabbergasted for a minute, although he wasn't really sure why. Those were the conversations that Ian would initiate every now and again. He insisted it was the bipolar but Mickey knew better. Ian had always needed constant reassurance. From when they were just starting out and he nearly cried when he thought Mickey didn't wanna be his boyfriend to the gratification of them holding hands because he just needed to know that he was wanted. It was something he'd grown used to over the years. But if there was anything he hated about Ian Gallagher that had to be it. Because he could think of nothing in the world he needed if it didn't involve him.

He set his post-coital cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table they'd gotten at a flea market, and rolled over on top of his boyfriend so that his arms were boxing in that bright red hair and his weird, insanely beautiful eyes could meet his and he knew he had his attention.

"Could you just listen to me for a second? I ain't down for sappy shit, you know that. But then again maybe you don't cause I figured you knew you were the person I wanted and that surely doesn't seem to be the case."

Ian moved to protest but Mickey quickly covered his mouth.

"I really don't care if there is someone out there who could treat me better. I don't care if there's some guy out there with a better ass than me or abs that make yours look pathetic in comparison. I don't care. This is what I want. No one makes me feel like _this,_ right here, right now. This is the only thing I wanna feel. That's never changed it's not going to change and if I thought it was I wouldn't have moved to the east coast with your crazy ass understand?"

Ian nodded softly eyes softening and in that moment Mickey could've sworn they were kids all over again, huffing visible breaths into each other's faces in a beat up van with more questionable stains than any teenage boy's bedroom. He just loved him. Like a lot. And he couldn't see that ever changing.

He kissed Ian, lips soft and slow and assuring, or at least he hoped as much.

"Just want you jackass." He mumbled. "Could never get tired of you."

And then they did some very needy love making that resulted in a bite mark Mickey didn't have a chance in hell of hiding for work. But he'd take it. As long as Ian knew the truth, and when he'd start to have doubts again Mickey would tell him the same thing over again, because he figured that was the least he could do for the love of his life.

Ian finished his requirements to become a physical trainer at the same time the gym on their street was hiring. Mickey had supported him through finally biting the bullet and getting certified. He went from making minimum wage to getting paid almost forty bucks an hour, which really made him praise the heavens for his piece of paper that made him qualified. It certainly evened them out a bit so that Mickey wasn't making all of the money and Ian felt like he had purpose. It also probably helped that he   
"met" a little someone not too long after being on the job.

He was automatically lined up with a bunch of women looking to get their bodies in shape because he was attractive and nice. It was to be expected. He'd often times show up to meet them only to find tank tops squeezing in on breasts like they didn't need any air at all and shorts so short you would've thought it wasn't winter outside. He was okay with the bending over to "stretch" as a way of formal greeting because he always eventually explained, "no ma'am I don't think we should go out for drinks because one, I'm your fitness trainer and alcohol will only repress our progress, and two, I don't think my boyfriend would appreciate it." And then he could get on to doing his actual job, so he was ready for it. Just not ready for it with this particular girl.

He had the clipboard in his hand but was reading over the mini survey his clients had to take about their goals for his program. He'd yet to read the name when he heard her voice, that very specific Southside snappy tongue that only one other person in his life had.

"He better have a great ass, if I don't get laid soon after this celibacy act I might literally go insane." Mandy groaned to a girlfriend there for moral support apparently.

"Well I do have a great ass, but I don't think it's the kind of ass you're looking for." He smirked.

She turned and squealed his name jumping on him like she used to when he would do something nice for her. He hadn't realized just how much he missed Mandy until the very moment he saw her. They never got much of an explanation on where she went to begin with. They knew things had ended rough with her last boyfriend and she said she just needed to get away, but New York had never once been what they expected and whenever she called it was always a different number.

"As happy as I am to see you, you now owe me a dick to ride; I am beyond stressed." She sighed climbing down off his body.

He chuckled. "I'm still with the same dick so I can't help you there, but I can work your body out like you wouldn't believe."

"Kinky Gallagher I like it." She smirked.

"With a work out Mandy. Like actual work out." He snorted. "By the same dick I meant your brother."

"Ugh you're still with that dick? What's he got a magical asshole or something?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." The redhead beamed.

Mandy introduced him to her very confused friend before she left and they began her work out. And after years of being away from Ian she realized something super special that day . . . she fucking hated that ginger.

"Come on Mandy five more! Don't give up! You got this!" He screamed.

Twenty minutes in and she was bathed in sweat and they were supposed to go for another twenty-five minutes of this shit?! All she'd wanted was to get laid and not only was that so not happening, but her ghetto brother in law was putting her body through the most pain she'd felt since she lost her virginity.

"Look at that, beautiful Mandy you did so good. How do you feel?"

She lie on the gym floor completely collapsed in the shape of a star fish panting her ass off as her chest rose and fell rapidly.

"You . . . fucking . . . suck." She gasped.

He laughed. "Good to have you back Mands."

They had lunch together that day and after work went back to Ian and Mickey's new place where Mandy got him drunk and totally forced him to sing ballads with way too much enthusiasm at the top of his lungs. When Mickey got home that night from work to his little sister and his boyfriend drunkenly doing their best rendition of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody" he wasn't even angry that his sister had just showed up out of nowhere, he was more upset that those bastards had gotten shit faced without him.

It was only after Ian had passed out, after of course Mickey fed him and made him take his meds, that Mandy and Mickey had any semblance of a mature conversation. And even that was on his living room floor passing a cigarette back and forth.

"Why New York?" He asked.

"Could ask you the same question."

"Got a job offer smart ass. Now answer the question."

She shrugged folding in on herself. "Was tired of piece of shit guys thinking I owed 'em something. I wanted to do something for me and New York used to be home, even though I barely remember it, so I thought why not. Just wanted to start over Mick."

He nodded passing her the cigarette. "And how's that going?"

A smile came to her lips before taking over her entire face.

"I work at a bar, which I know is like not that great, but it's an all-female staff and everyone's so nice and they look after me, we look after each other. I stay in an apartment with one of the girls, paying my share. I'm even saving up for some classes here. I feel so good." She giggled like it was a dirty secret. "What about you? I don't see a ring on Ian's finger."

Mickey laughed. "Very funny. After we went back for our diplomas I decided to keep going. At first it was just cause we needed the money. His pills and his doctor's appointments ain't cheap. But then I kinda fell in love with it. It was hard on us but . . . I passed with flying colors. Got a job offer straight out the gate, eventually got a better offer down here and as long as Ian's happy I'm happy so…"

He doesn't tell her about Terry. Something about it is just a little too personal for him and he doesn't think he can stomach rethinking the memory.

"He okay?"

"I think so. He's happy here. He's taking some time to adapt to his new therapist and he still calls Dr. Adams to gossip like old women. I hear them giggling and talking about me at least once a week. But we . . . we're good. We'll always be good eventually."

"Which brings me back to why the hell aren't you two married yet? You're committed as fuck, though I don't get what he sees in you. You've been together for centuries. Why not just bite the bullet?"

"Cause marriage doesn't fucking mean anything where we come from, you know that. Our dad kicked the shit out of us and our mom, fucked any hand whore that would take his money and had the audacity to put his hands on you after she died because he missed her. Ians' parents were their own demented version of fucked up and they were married too. What we got is better than that shit and I don't need a fucking piece of paper to ruin it."

She rolled her eyes but continued smoking.

"Yes Mickey because that's what fucked up ours and his parent's relationships was getting married."

He sent a glare her way that effectively ended the conversation. And because they were Milkovichs they didn't say that they missed each other, or that they were happy to be together. Instead Mandy leaned her head on his shoulder and Mickey let her finish the cigarette they'd been sharing.

She stayed over that night. No discussion, no questions asked. And from there it was just like she molded herself into their lives as if she'd never left to begin with.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

They got invited to a pool party. Really it was a hotel party but everybody met in the indoor pool. Mandy insisted that she could not go by herself because she was a woman, and so she enlisted Ian to go as her muscle. Mickey was running late because of work, so they just chilled out in the water playing around. Mickey and Ian really lacked a social life. They were hermits; they enjoyed billowing down in their homes for sex marathons and TV marathons and would happily live that way for always and eternity. But Mandy came in and forced them out of their comfort zone the obnoxious bitch. Ian didn't mind all that much. Mickey on the other hand was a little different.

"I'll be right back there's a boy over there with the greatest bone structure I've ever seen." Mandy grinned adjusting her bikini to somehow be even more revealing and sashaying away.

Ian smirked settling into the Jacuzzi to wait for Mickey. He smiled watching Mandy on her game. The subtle laugh that caused her shoulders to deepen effectively squishing her boobs together. The hand that trailed along his thigh. The teeth in the lip that had his eyes so entranced. His girl was good. She was real good.

"Hi."

Ian turned to see a guy settling in beside him. He had perfectly quaffed hair and a good cut that kept it all lined up and neat. His eyes were a honey brown and his facial hair looking as if it'd been trimmed with a steady hand and the world's tiniest scissors. He had a tan though it was only spring and his abs looked perfectly sculpted. Needless to say Ian had never seen guys like that back home.

Ian smiled politely. "Hey."

"I'm Brad; this is my friend's party."

"Ian."

"Well Ian, you enjoying yourself?"

He chortled. "Not as much as I think my friend is over there."

Mandy had already made her way onto Mystery Guy's lap and was twirling her wet hair with a skill unlike any woman he'd ever seen.

"Ah she's not your girlfriend is she?"

Ian tried very hard not to snort. He realized his knowledge of flirting and general dating were a little blurred by the fact that he'd only ever been with one person, but no one should be that painfully obvious. He found it immensely interesting that despite the fact that he'd just called Mandy his friend this guy felt the need to make sure they weren't together.

He moved to lean his head on his hand feigning ignorance.

"Oh of course not. Just a friend."

Brian—or was it Brad?—grinned as if he'd just locked in his prey for the night.

It was truly the most agonizing twenty minutes of his life. He was pretty sure Mandy was off fucking someone by now and he was left with the Daddy's boy who used a master card to get whatever he wanted. Ian wasn't really used to guys like that, but he knew even without Mickey in his life he wouldn't have been interested. For Christ sake the guy went on a ten minute rant about not being allowed to take the Maserati out that night. He was only twenty-two probably looking to score and Ian had a new found gratefulness for never having to go through the awkward stages of dating. He barely made it through one Brad he couldn't imagine having thirty of them.

"Anyway after this we're all heading up to the penthouse but uh I got a spare room if you wanted some you know privacy?"

Oh bless his heart, the poor kid had balls. It was just too bad Ian was gonna have to crush them.

"I don't know about you—" Mickey sighed appearing out of nowhere in the hot tub and draping his arm possessively over Ian's shoulder. "but I hate when boyfriends take forever to show up and you get hit own by dickheads that can't take a fucking hint. I mean that's the worst isn't it?"

"The worst." Ian quickly agreed, a grin taking over his entire face.

"Who's your friend?" Mickey asked tongue sharp and ready to hiss.

"Brent was just telling me about alone time in a suite or something."

"It's Brad." The young boy spat quickly standing up. "Him? Really? That's hysterical."

Mickey's eyebrows furrowed as the guy stomped off like the little bitch he was leaving behind an anger that coursed through his veins.

"The fuck was that supposed to mean?"

"Who gives a shit? I'm glad you’re here." Ian murmured softly wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

"I'm gone an hour and you're already pulling all the fags huh Gallagher?"

Ian nuzzled his wet forehead into Mickey's neck. "Don't want any fag but you Mick."

It caused a rough snort to exist his boyfriend's lips, but didn't completely calm him down. Mickey knew everyone was always looking at the two like they didn't make sense. Ian was practically model status now that he was a personal trainer constantly working out, and Mickey was always there struggling to keep up. He could ignore it most of the time but when some rich asshole with a eight pack looked down at him like he didn't deserve what he had there was still a piece of his sixteen year old self that agreed.

"Yea, whatever."

Ian peered up at him with wide, confused eyes.

"You're not jealous are you? You couldn't possibly be jealous right now."

Mickey shrugged. "You didn't look too eager to pull away."

"Oh fuck off with that Mickey I was desperately wishing you'd show up the whole time! It's not my fault you had to work late alright?"

"Oh so now it's my fault? Every time I work late I should just expect you to have dudes hanging all over you?"

"What? No! Jesus Mick I fucking missed you all day what are we even arguing about right now?" He spluttered.

Mickey sighed looking away. "I don't fucking know."

Ian softened taking in the wounded look on Mickey's face before huffing out an impatient breath. He slipped his way off his seat moving slowly in the water until he was standing right between his boyfriend's legs. His fingers wet and warm traveled over Mickey's skin forcing their eyes to meet in the intimacy of the hot tub. No one was better than Mickey.

"I don't think anyone could ever be as sexy to me as you are." He admitted suddenly causing Mickey to snort and flail. "No I'm serious. No one is as beautiful as you to me. I mean there's Ryan Reynolds but that—that's just not important is it?"

Mickey kicked him in the shin but smiled allowing Ian to run his wet fingers through his hair and preened at the touch.

"You might not see yourself as I do but to me you're the sexiest man I've ever seen. Because I know what you can do, what you're willing to do with me and the way you open yourself up to me, both figuratively and literally. He could never be you, you have to know that. You're Mickey." He simply beamed.

Mickey let himself be dragged forward in the water till their arms and legs tangled and you couldn't see where one began and the other ended.

"K." He whispered allowing his lips to tasted and pecked. "So . . . Ryan Reynolds huh? This why we've watched Blade: Trinity like ten times now?"

"It's literally ass kicking and Ryan Reynolds flexing I can think of no better basis for a movie ever."

The conversations you have when you've been with someone for as long as they had. Jesus.

*ten minutes later*

"Are you out of your goddamn mind Gallagher?!"

"Mickey I'm fucking telling you there is no way in the world Chris Pratt as Star-Lord is beating Ryan Reynolds as Hannibal King!"

"I'm dating a goddamn idiot, I swear. Did you see Guardians of the Galaxy at all? Dude fucking held on to that stone until his skin was like fucking silver or some shit. It was disintegrating Ian! Anyone else would've died. You're Ryan Reynolds isn't even a fucking vampire he's an ex-vampire you fucktard."

Mandy slipped into the hot tub unnoticed by her brother and best friend because they were literally the dumbest people ever.

"What in the hell are you two arguing about?"

Ian huffed. "Our entire relationship is based on a lie. Mickey would pick Chris Pratt in Guardians of the Galaxy over Ryan Reynolds in Blade: Trinity."

"Well . . . wasn't he an ex vampire?"

Mickey burst into laughter as Ian stomped out of the hot tub in anger not listening to either of them of them trying to reconcile him in between their giggles. So much for a night out.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Mandy became an immediate fixture in their lives as if she had never left. She was a friend to Ian and a pain in Mickey's ass, but they both loved to have her around. They started to go the bar she worked out and eventually made friends with the rest of the patrons. It was as close as either of them was ever gonna get to a group of friends, but it worked. They were happier with her around that was for sure.

Their only problem really seemed to be that as their twenties came to a close another problem seemed to arise. Particularly Mickey. He was older than Ian by two years and though that hadn't seemed like nearly such a big deal when they were twenty-four and twenty-two he couldn't help but realize that the big 3-0 was coming at him full force and his boyfriend didn't seem to be getting any older. Whoever said men didn't get insecure about their bodies were on a whole new level of bullshit, which of course only served to make his insecurities run deeper because society had told him they shouldn't exist. Ian was a Greek god who did sit ups for fun and had muscles in his back. Mickey couldn't help but feel . . . flabby.

"Fuck." Mickey muttered staring in the mirror.

Ian stepped out of the shower, wet and glistening and chiseled the little bastard and came to stand behind Mickey in the full length mirror of their bathroom.

"What?"

He winced poking at his stomach. "Am I starting to look like my ole man to you? I think I'm getting a beer gut."

Ian chuckled and wrapped his arms around him from behind, fingers trailing softly along the skin.

"You've always been soft here. I like you this way. And Terry looked like a Nazi serial rapist so no you don't look like your ole man." He smirked kissing his cheek. "You're beautiful."

"Fuck off." Mickey muttered looking down with burning cheeks.

Ian let his fingers trail down Mickey's hip and then along his thigh until he was reaching for something a little lower than his so called "beer gut."

"I don't know about you but as long as this is here I think I'll be okay." He whispered.

And damn that ginger because it totally worked and Mickey totally forgot about everything that ever happened as he was bent over their sink for a quick round before work. Yes, they had lube in their bathroom. They were nothing if not always prepared.

But it didn't really work farther than that. Mickey would come from work sore and instead of just taking a hot shower and going about his day he started to question it. Was he sore because it was just a hard day, or was it because he was getting older and his body was already giving out on him? He stopped having his after work beer, even if they went to hang out with Mandy at the bar. He told Ian he didn't want him to feel left out, but of course there were ulterior motives.

He felt uncomfortable in the skin he was in. A part of him was worried Ian wouldn't find him attractive, that Ian would wake up and realize that there was better ass in the world than the Southside thug with fucking daddy issues. Mickey came from a world where husbands fucked their wives till they got old and their snatches weren't tight and then they went and found women who could provide them with that tight snatch and maybe tits that didn't touch their elbows. So maybe he didn't have tits and most definitely not a snatch but there were parts of his body that weren't the same as ten years ago. And if he could see it, what was gonna stop Ian from seeing it?

The final straw for him was Ian getting hit on at Mandy's bar. It wasn't the first time people noticed that Ian was hot as all hell, but Mickey'd had a bad enough day feeling lumpy and fucking disheveled. All he wanted to do was sit at the bar with his boyfriend and his little sister and talk shit for a couple of hours, but could the world let him have that? NO!

They were sitting at the bar right next to each other when a guy just came and sat down directly in front of him. There was a time when that alone would've got him knocked the fuck down.

"Hey you wanna get out of here?" The guy asked.

He was pretty just like the guy in the hot tub and it made a special kind of rage boil inside of Mickey. His hand was skimming down Ian's back and the dam holding back all of the self-hate and anger just broke. Mickey snapped out of his chair and grabbed that hand twisting behind the random guys back and slamming his head clear against the bar so quickly the movement blurred.

"You put a fucking hand on him again and you're gonna leave this bar on a goddamn stretcher you hear me?!" He spat slamming the guy's head again for good measure.

He stalked off back to his seat tossing back the water that did absolutely fucking nothing to cure the rage in his veins while the crimpled man slowly made his way for the door.

"Damn Mickey." Mandy smirked.

"That was fucking hot." Ian hummed leaning over to kiss Mickey on the forehead like he was a fucking child. "Thank you my big, bad boyfriend."

"Shut up." He mumbled not nearly as excited.

His ego was deflated and he felt like shit for the rest of the night. He didn't have the faintest clue to make himself worthy of Ian Gallagher, but it used to be something he could live with. Now, Mickey wasn't so sure.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

"I'm worried about Mickey."

Mandy raised an eyebrow at her best friend who was supposed to be training her in the acts of physical shit but was instead doing pull ups like a fucking mad man. She dropped her weights in favor of a water bottle and watched on as Ian worriedly worked out.

"He do something wrong?"

"N—No something's just . . . off." Ian sighed nose scrunching up.

"Off?"

"Yea, off."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to give me a little more to go off than that Ian."

"Last night we ordered take out and he didn't get kung poa chicken or his pot stickers." He said as if that explained absolutely everything.

"Oh shit Ian you're right it must be cancer!"

"Fuck off. You don’t understand Mickey loves his pot stickers and kung poa chicken could quite possibly be his favorite food. We don't order Chinese just for Mickey to not get his favorites. But that's not just it I mean . . . we went grocery shopping last weekend and he didn't even get a case of beer. I don't see him eat, he won't let me cook breakfast for him anymore. He won't touch me and every time I touch him it's like a fucking electric shock. If he's not in the shower I never see him naked and even then he's always hiding behind a towel or something. And I'm not sure where he's smoking his cigarettes at because every time I go to take his pack out of his jeans before I do the laundry there isn't one. And he's not smoking at home so where the fuck is he smoking at Mandy?"

"As cute as I find it that you two are so domestic that you have a routine for your laundry I'm having a little trouble focusing with you huffing and puffing now could sit the fuck down please?"

He hopped down from the pull up bar taking a seat across from her on the bench where he continued to fret, his voice taking on a sad, almost nervous tone.

"I—I found something Mandy." He whispered.

Her eyes widened. "What?"

"I was in his trunk putting some stuff from the store away and he uh . . . he's got a bag with a change of clothes in it." The man's shoulders hunched as he sniffled. "I mean he wouldn't—he wouldn't cheat on me right Mands? Not my Mickey."

She sighed as he finally admitted his fears letting her best friend take her hand roughly. It was a tough role to play, the sister of the boy her best friend thought was cheating on her. How on earth was she gonna pull that one off?

"Shit Ian . . . Did you talk to him about it?"

His eyes seem to wet further with that. "So you think it's a possibility?"

"I'm not saying that, I mean you and my brother are fucking endgame, I'm just asking if you're sure this is even something to question right now."

He sniffled. "Of fucking course not have you met your brother?"

He looked on the very cusp of crying making her feel even more like shit. It came as no surprise to her either that Ian would be sad at the idea of Mickey cheating on him instead of angry. She reached for his face holding it close so that their foreheads touched.

"It's okay." She whispered soothingly. "We'll figure it out."

"What do I do Mandy? I don’t know what to do. If I don't have Mickey here I got nothing."

"That's not true you've got—"

"Nothing." He interrupted her with finality.

And she didn't take offense, maybe because she understood what he was saying. Mickey was everything to Ian, and that was perfectly okay with her. The thought of her brother changing his diet and his ways for anyone other than Ian was absolutely crazy though. She had to believe that or else the world itself just wouldn't make sense anymore.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

Mickey woke up sore and unhappy. Stumbling toward the shower he went through the mental check list of all the shit he had to do that day. By the time he was wrapping a towel around his entire body Ian was there looking tired and a little hesitant not even noticing that his boyfriend now covered everything after a shower, or that his body could fit inside the towel. His eyes wouldn't leave Mickey's though and the look was insistent so they stared for a second before he slowly took his hips in his hands causing Mickey to physically recoil at the touch. If only Mickey could see how fucking heart breaking that was for him.

"Mick?" He whispered voice cracking desperately.

"Yea?"

"I love you."

His voice was deep and needy and scared as he searched Mickey's eyes looking for a sign that his fears weren't true, that there was still a love for him in there.

"I love you too." He murmured reaching up to kiss him.

But then he was pulling away and doing anything to put distance between his body and Mickey's body and that hurt so fucking much.

Mickey wasn't dumb; the past few months had been hard for them, but dammit they'd been hard on him alone. He knew he was pulling away but there was an inner turmoil going on inside of him that was bigger than Ian. It was safe to say that he hated his body at that point. It was safe to safe the reason he wore sweatshirts any chance he got wasn't out of a need for warmth but out of a need to hide. It was safe to say that he wasn't eating enough and that he knew this and that he was okay with it. It was also safe to say that he felt like absolute shit, trapped in an endless cycle of hurt and decay that no one could really stop him from. But he continued, and the worst part was that he couldn't even really remember why anymore.

"Do you think tonight we could go out? Maybe for dinner. Just . . . talk and relax?" Ian mumbled before he could leave for work.

Mickey sighed but ultimately couldn't say no to that face. That face was irresistible.

"Sure I'll just shuffle some stuff around at work and we'll go."

Ian nodded looking into his eyes and for just a second Mickey felt that he could see all the broken and damaged parts of him.

"Okay."

Mickey left that morning and Ian couldn't help but feel a pull towards the door once they were separated. His mind just couldn't get over this idea that something was wrong. And so he followed him. He knew he looked crazy and he hoped to god that he was but . . . there's always a what if. And that what if had him following Mickey to a gym thirty minutes away from their home, deliberately away from Ian's. By the time he got there Mickey was meeting with this guy, an objectively attractive guy, and his heart just broke. He stormed inside in a flurry struggling to breathe and to believe that Mickey could possibly hurt him like that.

Mickey stumbled almost drowsily allowing Objectively Attractive Guy to hold him up. And the pain inside of Ian had never felt so infinite.

"What the fuck Mickey!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Ian? The fuck are you doing here?"

"Please don't tell you're doing this to me. Please Mickey, tell me."

"What the fuck are you going on about Ian?"

He stepped towards Ian albeit sluggishly but Ian took a sharp step back. Confusion swirled around the both of them in a dusty cloud as they both struggled for understanding.

"Are you fucking him?" Ian whispered the hurt radiating hot through his chest.

"What?!"

"I—Is that what you do you go to a different gym and you—you get off on it? On knowing it's just like where I work at? Please don't tell me that's it Mick."

"Are you fucking kidding me? For the love of god Ian you're so fucking stupid!" He roared.

The roar seemed to zap all the energy out of Mickey and then he just looked so tired. For the first time in months Ian took a good long look at his boyfriend instead of his actions, and he disliked what he saw even more than before. Mickey was pale, paler than usual and his eyes had an almost gaunt look to them like he wasn't sleeping. He was tired and out of breath though there hadn't been any time for him to work out before Ian got there.

They made their way outside and Mickey was barely moving. It made a little bit of the fight leave Ian, because Mickey didn't even look like he could survive one. He looked as though he could fall over any minute and Ian found himself reaching a steadying hand just in case.

"Now . . . please explain your bullshit reasoning for me cheating on you."

Ian sighed looking down. "You just stopped smoking and eating unhealthy and doing all these things I asked you do for years but out of nowhere. And then all of a sudden I can't touch you, you barely let me look at you and I found clothes in your trunk and I just didn't know . . . I didn't know if you were tired of me. We haven't looked at each other in months Mickey, months. There used to be a time when you couldn't go a day without seeing me. I used to take the L to visit you in juvie every single day because we wanted each other that much. I thought that maybe, maybe you didn't feel that way anymore."

A sharp sound passed through Mickey's lips and Ian looked up in time to see him swipe his hands over his face tiredly. The action very nearly sent him toppling over. Ian had to lower him to the ground because he wasn't so sure he could stand any longer, but watching him pant and wobble was fucking hard. None of it was making any sense.

"Mickey what's going on? Just tell me."

"There's stuff I don't like okay?"

"Okay, like what?"

"Like . . . my stomach. And my thighs. And uh maybe my shoulders alright?"

"I'm sorry what?" Ian asked.

Mickey simply shook his head.

"Look there was shit I didn't like so I'm fixing it alright? I ain't fucking cheating on you I'm just trying to fucking give you something to come home to in another ten years."

Ian's mouth dropped as he slowly understood. When he became certified it was definitely something they covered: warning signs to look out for, things to notice. And he'd let everything run by him because of his own insecurities. But when he finally opened his eyes it was impossible not to see what had been staring him in the face all along.

"Oh my god…. Oh my god. Mickey when's the last time you've eaten." He whispered, voice horror stricken.

"I ate breakfast Ian." He replied automatically.

"You don't let me cook you breakfast anymore. I never see you eat before you leave for work. Oh my god Mickey. Oh my fucking god!"

"Shut the fuck up Gallagher." He mumbled.

It didn't go unnoticed to Ian that Mickey was wearing yet another sweatshirt. When he reached for it Mickey did the most pathetic attempt at pulling away Ian had ever seen, no longer was he the strong Southside thug Ian had fallen in love with. He was weaker now.

It was easy to pull the sweatshirt away and what he saw was heart breaking. His stomach, which used to be soft and normal and beautiful was sunken. It was clear he'd lost a vast amount of weight there because it looked completely abnormal to before. His collarbones were sticking out and Ian was sure if he flipped him over he could feel his spine. Anger coursed through him immediately, stinging his eyes with the saddest tears he'd felt in his entire life. He immediately took the blame and the hurt onto his own shoulders. The love of his life had been hurting for so long and he hadn't even noticed.

"Oh no." He whispered swallowing unsuccessfully at the lump in his throat. "Oh Mickey, no."

And he saw what that did. He saw how bad it hurt Mickey to hear those words and the way he folded in on himself told him everything he needed to know. He was afraid Ian wouldn't be satisfied with him.

"I can . . . go and finish my session. I know it doesn't look like a lot right now, but I've lost almost fifty. And I was reading online they had hot saunas and shit that burn even more calories. I can do it."

The fact that Mickey could think he wanted him to lose more weight, that his personal best at some dangerous eating plan would still not be enough hurt him even more. He'd let him down.

Ian leaned forward slipping his fingers along Mickey's sad face pulling him as close as he could.

"Do what Mickey? Do this until you can't walk straight, until you hurt yourself or end up in the hospital? This is all my fault."

Mickey's eyes watered and he looked up at Ian with sad confused eyes. They both were crying for completely different reasons.

"I just wanted to make you happy."

"Oh baby you do. You make me so, so happy. But this isn't good for you Mick. This isn't healthy. I love you the way that you come. You're beautiful to me inside and out; I don't need you like this."

He shook his eyes trying to rid the thoughts.

"No. All those guys. They knew I didn't deserve you. I wanna deserve you Ian."

"Mickey you do deserve me. You took care of me in that bathroom. You took care of me when they made fun on of me on the playground. You found us a place to live and you became the first Milkovich to graduate from college just to support us. You took me to see the stars. You held me every time that I asked and every time that I couldn't. Mickey you've shown me the greatest love I could ever ask for and no amount of weight loss could ever change that. I loved the body you had your whole life. I love your soul and your brain and your heart. I want all of you do you hear me? Healthy and happy. I'm so sorry I made you feel different."

They sit there for a while wrapped tight in each other's arms allowing tears to seep down cheeks and throats to convulse and tighten. Ian clutched him tight loosening every now and again because he just felt so fragile. Mickey had taken care of Ian a majority of his life, but he now he needed the care, he needed the protecting. And there wasn’t a bone in Ian's body that wasn't ready for that task.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Dr. Adam's flies in on Wednesday and Ian hasn't slept in almost two days. Every time he looks at Mickey he wants to cry and scream and throw something and hold him so so tight.  He wants to beg him to know he's beautiful and that he loves him every fucking fiber of his being. He wants his brain to stop shouting that it's his fault even though he knows that it is. He wants his chest and his heart to stop hurting. It all feels so overwhelming and he doesn't know how he's ever gonna get through it.

They wanted him to take him to a nutritionist or check him into some camp for eating disorders. But he didn't trust anyone with his Mickey, hadn't let anyone see him. He'd called into work and said there was a health emergency, and because Mickey was so good at his job and never took time off they told him to take the time that he needed. He had tried to feed him small things, but the hesitance on Mickey's face broke his heart that much further. He held him in the shower and ran his fingers along his skin for the first time in months, kissed him everywhere that he could so that he knew. He needed to know.

"Ian." She sighed as he opened the door barreling straight into his arms.

There was no one else he could think to trust with Mickey, and no one else he could think that Mickey would listen to. He hadn't called anyone. Not Mandy. Not Fiona or even Lip. All of the weight of the situation was a hundred percent on his shoulders. So when she hugged him he finally felt like maybe he didn't have to stagger under the load anymore.

"H—He's asleep. I'll go wake him."

He took a seat next to Mickey's sleeping form sliding his hand onto his shoulder and shaking him gently.

"Mick? Dr. Adams is here. She wants to see you." He whispered.

Ian helped him out of bed, leading him slowly to the couch despite muttered assertions that he was, "fucking fine, I'm not an invalid." They settled next to each other and Dr. Adams looked at them both with nothing but concern and sadness in her eyes. They were the last two people in the world she wanted to see in that situation.

"I'd like to talk to Mickey alone if that's alright. Ian maybe you could go out and get us something to eat? Whatever Mickey wants, maybe something small like a salad or something."

Ian's heart tightened at the thought of not being by Mickey's side and he couldn’t help but have a mini freak out.

"I don't—Is that okay with you? Mickey?"

Mickey nodded softly not meeting Ian's eye. "Soup."

"Okay I'll get potato soup, your favorite, alright?"

Mickey doesn't tell him the calorie difference between a potato soup and chicken noodle, doesn't tell him that the thought of potato soup makes something within him growl repulsively.

He pressed a kiss to Mickey's forehead barely able to pull himself away. Maybe it'd be good for him, for them. He just hoped that Dr. Adams could help.

They sat there in silence for a minute Mickey upset at himself and the situation and just waiting for Dr. Adams to tell him everything he'd done wrong. What she said instead surprised him.

"It's very nice to see you again Mickey." 

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'm just glad to see you is all." She smiled.

"Shouldn't you be yelling at me? Telling me all the shit I've done wrong and how I could die?"

"Do you think you did something wrong?"

He bit at his lip. "I . . . hurt him. I heard him crying all night last night. He won't even look at me anymore."

"Okay. Is that the only thing you think you did wrong?" She asked not arguing with him at all.

He shrugged. "Maybe I over did it with the body stuff."

She nodded taking him in as he sat. It was true he was much thinner than the last time they'd met, but thankfully not life threatening so, yet. Ian had caught it in time.

"Alright, that's okay. Could you tell me what kind of stuff you did? Just so I have a better idea of what's going on."

And for some reason he tells her. He tells her that first it was beer. And then he learned he could lose weight faster if he worked out, and even faster if he cut meals. He told her he'd gotten down to eating one meal a day. Just enough to get him through the work outs. He drank water to make up for it. He told her how he hated the way he looked because very fit, very attractive men wanted Ian all the time and Ian was stuck with him. He told her how much it hurt that Ian wouldn't look at him, and that he was afraid he wouldn't want him anymore. He was doing it for him, just like always. But then at some point it had become deeper. It stopped being about Ian and starting being about the fact that Mickey just wasn't fucking good enough. He told her how much he just wanted to be good. Mickey told her everything.

And when he cried, because of fucking course he had to cry she wrapped her arms around him. Soft, nurturing fingers rubbed at his back and she just whispered words of encouragement in his ear.

"It doesn't matter anymore," He sniffled. "cause I hate me now."

"It's okay. This is not your fault Mickey, we're gonna figure it all out together okay?"

"I don't have a fucking eating disorder. I ain't some girl afraid of her piece of shit boyfriend not wanting to stick in her."

"No you're not. But you are a man who wants to give his boyfriend everything and unfortunately that lead to you making some unhealthy decisions. And whether that means an eating disorder or not, we've got a get you to stop making those decisions."

He won't meet her eyes but he just keeps reiterating that it's not an eating disorder. He chose it. He wanted it. He controlled it. It wasn't an eating disorder.

Ian came back lugging white plastic bags of food sending a rough growl through Mickey. He whined at the sound already programmed to endure the hunger. It didn't go unnoticed to him that Ian refused to meet his eyes as he sat the food down. He hadn't looked at him since the gym and his mind was going crazy with all the possible reasons why. He reached out clasping his fingers around Ian's' wrist surprising both of them with the sudden strength.

"Do you need something else?"

"Why won't you look at me?" He asked. _I can't be that ugly._

"I'm looking at you now Mick." But their eyes never locked.

"No. No you're not. What I fuckin' scare you now or something? I'm not good enough anymore cause I lost a little weight?"

Ian's eyes met his and they were burning, flames thick and wild in his pupils the agony was suffocating and scorching him where he stood.

"Fifty pounds is not a little weight Mickey!" He exploded. "When you don't eat for days and you lift weight like a goddamn body builder, do you know what that does to your body? Sometimes you gain weight sure, but for someone like you you lose it. It destroys your muscles Mick i—it tears you apart from the inside. I loved your body since I was a little kid. I loved every piece of you and I never told you enough and now you hate yourself. You're not eating because of me. I—It's my fault. I did this to you."

His voice had fallen to a whisper as if tears dripping down his cheeks were the volume running out of him. He crumpled to his knees leaning over Mickey's body to ready for his face with trembling fingers.

"I'm so sorry Mickey. I'm so fucking sorry." He cried hiding his face in his lover's chest. "I love you so much; you never had to change a thing for me."

Mickey caught Dr. Adam's eye over his sobbing boyfriend. She simply gave him a small smile and waved him on as if they'd never need her help at all. Almost like they could fix it all, together.

It isn't easy. There's a genuine lack of understanding between them. Who's at fault and who caused what and who did and didn't do. Ian took on all of the guilt. Mickey didn't want him to. He wanted the blame on him and they fought about it endlessly. And suddenly the person who needed constant reassurance that he was loved was doing all the reassuring. Suddenly the person who never asked anyone for anything, who did everything himself had to lean on someone else for a change. There was a lot of yelling. A lot of tears. A lot of rebuilding. They found that nothing happens overnight. Not weight gain or self-acceptance, or even a conversation. But despite all of that was two people trying to grow together and when they struggled they pushed each to continue on.

Ian worshipped him more than he ever had before and he kissed every blue and tear that it brought of Mickey. He kissed and licked and rubbed at the skin that he loved. He hugged him tight at night, especially the hard ones when Mickey would cry in the shower and come out red faced and raw too tired to say another word. He loved him as fully and completely as he possibly could.

And Mickey, for all intents and purposes, let him. Because it hurt. It hurts to not love yourself. It hurts to feel unworthy because you don't look like everyone else. It used to be he looked different because he was dirty, and yet Ian loved him without a shower. And then it was the knuckles, but Ian's kissed those and filled their spaces with his own. And maybe after everything he just needed to exile himself again, and maybe he needed to find a reason why he wasn't good enough. So why couldn't that reason be his body? A piece of him had to come to terms with the fact that it wasn't Ian at all, it was him and his issues. But that didn't make every night crawling into his arms when he couldn't finish dinner so much fucking better.

They went to therapy together now slipping down different hallways to work on different parts of themselves. And Mickey, with all his struggle to keep everything inside, tried to share the broken pieces with Ian. Tried to explain that it wasn't his fault. They tried to work together instead of against each other eventually throwing all blame out the window. It was had, maybe the hardest thing Mickey'd ever had to do but it felt kinda good to know that he wasn't done.

"How was your meeting?" Ian asked as they walked to the car.

Mickey shrugged bumping their shoulders together. "Gained three more pounds. Doc said I could be up to ten by the end of the month if I keep up my goals."

"Wow, that's so good Mick. I'm proud of you." The smile on his face solidified that.

They made their way towards the car, Mickey looking anywhere but as Ian when he reached for his hand. Ian squeezed their fingers together anyway. The stronger Mickey got physically, the more he tried to balance emotionally.

"You goin' back to work?"

Mickey shook his head softly before pressing Ian against the car eliciting a little grunt from the younger man's lips. Lips which he kissed, long and slow and hard. Because as much as he was starting to feel like himself again, nothing made him feel more alive than the very person before him.

"I love you." He mumbled fervently going back in for another soft kiss. "I love you and I'm sorry if I hurt you."

And for once instead of arguing over who was more sorry or who loved who more Ian just took it, wrapping himself around Mickey to continue the gentle passing of kisses. Seemed like the kids would be alright after all.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has body image issues and basically stops eating and works out relentlessly to be a "good enough" version of himself. Eating Disorder is spoken of but never actually determined. 
> 
>  
> 
> This is literally the scariest chapter for me to post, i think, ever. I'm very nervous about how people are going to respond to it. I wanted it to come out right, i wanted it to come across as authentic and not seem like something I was doing strictly for shock value(Shameless does enough of that for us). I just think that Mickey shows very self-destructive behavior both in canon and in this world. I think he constantly struggles with self-acceptance and self-love and I don't think It's reach here at all for Mickey to want to look different, to try to make himself look different. I genuinely hope you guys liked this chapter and any comments or feedback you have about it would be greatly appreciated. I PROMISE happier times are upon us. 
> 
> Come find me:  
> Zankivich.tumblr.com


	20. New Year's

Ian is twenty five when New Year's hits. They were going to the square to watch the ball drop and he was ecstatic. He'd been begging Mickey to go since they moved to New York, but he'd always held his ground on the subject. After some pretty harsh months though, and a lot of stress, Mickey figured they should say fuck it and just do something different for a change. He'd made his bonus for the quarter which meant an extra five grand in their pockets for the holidays and Ian couldn't have been prouder. He was ten pounds under the weight he'd started at, a goal they'd both agreed was amazing. Mickey went to Ian's gym now, with a different instructor of course, but it meant he could keep an eye on him and steal kisses in the locker room, which he did . . . a lot.

Mickey's journey wasn't something that could be easily forgotten, sometimes it felt like it haunted Ian's dreams every single night, but they had to move on, had to keep pushing. They'd never officially diagnosed him with an eating disorder but Anorexia Nervosa was thrown around way too much behind his back to not be a legitimate thought. Ian didn't really care though. He focused more on repairing the damage than focusing on what was broken to begin with. Sure Mickey had never been screaming self-love off the roof tops, they were two gay kids from the Southside of Chicago the closet along made them insecure as fuck, but just knowing that pain and that darkness that Mickey had endured in that time made Ian very insistent that he be aware of all the good things about himself. Because there was so, so many great, wonderful things.

"Ian can I ask you a question?"

"'Course you can."

"Just what in the hell are we actually doing right now?"

Ian grinned sheepishly. "Well my love, this is a bath and these are bubbles so I do indeed believe we are in a bubble bath Mick."

"Yes, _dear,_ but why are we in a bubble bath is the question smartass."

He chuckled softly into his neck letting his arms come up from behind to hold Mickey close.

"Cause I love you . . . and Dr. Adams suggested it might help."

Mickey groaned sprawling his head back against Ian's shoulder.

"Of fucking course she did. And maybe if I was chick who enjoyed long walks on the beach and white wine she'd be right, however that is not the case and this is stupid as all fuck. And you two could really leave my own shit to me; I'd greatly appreciate it."

"That's just it," Ian said softly. "it's not just your shit anymore. I mean it is, this is your thing and I get you have to deal with it just like I had to deal with my own disorder but . . . we don't have to do these things alone. I'm here for you Mick. I love you. So much. And I wanna help you love yourself again."

Mickey looked Ian in the eye for a while as if to make sure he wasn't lying, but there was nothing but complete and utter truthfulness in his eyes. He was always genuine with Mickey, and that meant a lot when he was too busy struggling to decipher fact from lies.

"Okay." He whispered softly.

"K?"

The kiss to the nose would've been nauseating if it didn't warm Mickey to the soles of his feet.

They sit in this damn tub and Ian's hands are all over him and he still has to close his eyes, still has to fight the cringe. It's hard. But being with Ian somehow makes it easier and harder at the same time. Because he just wants to give him everything. And when he doesn't it destroys him a little bit. It's no longer a question of whether Ian loves him, and Mickey's not so sure it ever was. His problem is fighting through all of the shit in his life to finally be able to love himself. Maybe having Ian love him too just makes it all a little easier.

They don't have sex again until Mickey is twenty pounds in. Before that he was too timid, to focused on his own recovery which Ian was all for. He never stopped being Mickey though, a fact which he took a lot of pride in. He was still blunt, still brash, and hardheaded, but with a softness for this very annoying redhead. So when the time came there were no pretenses like there might've been if it was Ian's decision. They simply met each other at the door with a kiss and Mickey let it out.

"After dinner I wanna have sex. So let's get to eating Gallagher." He clapped rushing past him.

Ian stood frozen at the door for a minute trying to get his brain to process what had just been dropped on him. Leave it to Mickey to always keep Ian on his toes. He followed him into their bedroom where Mickey was changing into sweatpants and a cut off t-shirt. He smiled internally looking over his arms which were growing by the day with his new workout, and his cheeks were more round again, and that ass would always be diabolical. If Mickey wanted sex not a single piece of Ian would be physically capable of turning him down. That didn't stop him from being just a smidge bit hesitant.

"Are you sure Mick? I mean I don't wanna rush you into anything."

Mickey shook his head pressing himself against Ian so that their hips touched through denim and cotton.

"Not rushing me, it's my choice Ian. Don't you wanna?"

And he could see the slight hesitance in Mickey's eyes, as if there was still a piece of him that was afraid Ian might turn him down. Not unless hell froze over.

Ian grinned reaching for him. "Of course. Oh my god you have no idea how bad I want to. Just want to make sure you want it to. I want you to be comfortable."

Mickey bit his lip leaning back just enough that he could reach between them to cup Ian experimentally through his jeans.

"Maybe take some extra time with the prep. I'm as comfortable as I'm ever gonna get."

The confidence on Mickey's face was maybe the sexiest thing Ian had ever seen. Whoever said physical attraction was all looks lied. When Mickey went out and got what he wanted it was the biggest turn on for Ian. He loved seeing him sure of himself and his abilities. And if the now slight bulge in his jeans was anything to go off, he'd say Mickey's confidence was pretty fucking enticing.

"We should eat then…. Like now."

Mickey smirked and it only served to make Ian squirm harder.

They eat hurriedly merely going through the motions to make sure Mickey got enough food. That had been a really important part so far, casually increasing his meals so that he felt comfortable while still getting nutrients and calories in his body. Still they kept glancing at one another the sexual tension thickening with every scrape of fork on a plate. It didn't take long before Mickey was tossing his fork down and running for the bedroom Ian right on his heels.

Ian pushed softly at Mickey till they lie on the bed, kissing hungrily at his lips. He raked fingers through his hair biting and licking at his mouth. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this part of Mickey until he finally got it back. Taking his time was of the upmost importance running his fingers along his sides and his hips. He was beautiful and sexy and Ian wanted him so badly, wanted him to know just how badly he wanted him.

He skimmed his nose along the length of Mickey's neck sucking moans and rumbles through the skin. God how he loved him. There was something electric about his feelings for Mickey. Their chemistry had always been that way, but he loved more than anything touching his boyfriend with the sole purpose of giving himself to him, touching him to make him feel good and alive. It fueled him. He was a giver after all in more ways than one.

"Love you." He whimpered sucking at the skin below his naval. "You're so goddamn hot Mick."

Mickey looked down at him blue eyes blown to shit and nerves still plastered on his face. Ian reached for him intertwining their fingers among the already flustered sheets as he slurped heavy marks into his flesh. Mickey moaned arching himself towards that touch which Ian gladly gave him more of.

That night was the closest thing Ian every got to finding God. Loving Mickey was like his religion. He found himself lavishing at his skin. He sucked and nibbled at him like it was a prayer, and Mickey's response might as well have been a trip to heaven. He loved him like it was all he had left.

Maybe it was the rimming for what felt like hours that took Mickey over the edge. Or maybe it was when Ian went down on him until he came, until the orgasm bubbled to the surface and spilled over making him arch his back and scream. Somewhere in there easily the most embarrassing thing in Mickey's life happened. His eyes were glistening and he discovered he had working tear ducts and it fucking sucked. And of course Ian noticed because what doesn't Ian notice and it was by far . . . maybe the best thing to happen between them yet.

"It was just intense is all." Mickey lied wiping the water away with trembling fingers.                                     

Had nothing to do with feeling the most intense love in the history of the universe, absolutely fucking not.

Ian moved his hands away crawling up and licking at the tears until he met his lips, kissing smooth and soft and so damn lovingly.

"Mkay." He whispered. "That's alright. You wanna keep going or take a break?"

Mickey peered down so that their eyes didn't meet and saw how hard Ian was jutting out against his thigh.

"Not gonna leave you hanging man."

"That's alright. I can wait. You're worth waiting for Mick."

Mickey snorted pushing playfully at his face until it squished and mushed.

"Such a goddamn sap Gallagher."

They lie pressed together again until Mickey felt comfortable. Ian kept kissing at his skin and Mickey found a way to curl himself around him from underneath. They hadn't spent that much time just kissing in years. It felt spectacular. And when friction happened and his hips started to move without question he took control, slipping his fingers along Ian's shaft until he was hard and leaking against Mickey's hip. The sight of it red and hot again his pale, creamy thigh was fucking filthy and it drove him wild.

"Ian." He moaned whiny and desperate.

Everything was smooth from the condom to the prep to connecting their hips together for the first time in way too long. The moment they locked together felt like the greatest orgasm in the world in itself. Mickey knotted his legs together wanting Ian close, needing to feel all of his heat as they consumed one another.

"Oh my God Mick, so fucking tight."

"G—Grab me." Mickey panted.

Ian complied reaching down to grab Mickey's ass for leverage. Mickey did the same digging his fingers into Ian's backside as a demand to get deeper. There weren't much big pistoning thrusts. It was varying degree of fullness, Ian simply rocking his hips to push himself farther in to Mickey. They just held each other rocking and humping and gasping against each other's skin. It was all that they needed and most definitely fulfilled its purpose.

"Fuck…. Fuck fuck Ian." He whimpered legs clamping down so hard he was sure there'd be bruises.

Ian trailed his fingers up Mickey's thigh hitching him higher as he sped up pulling away and slamming in it quick secession.

"You feel so goddamn good. I love you. Oh Mickey—so, so fucking amazing. So fucking beautiful for me. I love your ass I—I love—shit! Shit YES! Ungh!"

His hips locked and a babbling Ian shoved his face into Mickey's neck as he rode the powerful high of his orgasm.

When he finished and he looked up sheepishly, cheeks red and lips swollen Mickey took his face in his hands and kissed him harder than ever. He didn't have to apologize for cumming first or just losing it in general because maybe that was good for them, maybe it was good for Mickey to see he wasn't the only driven wild, because Mickey drove him wild too.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

It was snowing and cold and icky and Mickey very much wanted to cuddle into his boyfriend and warm his frozen feet and NOT be fucking bothered. Their comforter was big and warm and Ian even warmer long speckled arms wrapping tight around Mickey. Both of them were too lazy to turn on the tv or get up or move more than the couple inches it took to get comfortable. It was just that kind of day. A day off filled with cuddling and talking and apparently annoying little sisters.

Mickey was in the middle of getting his neck sucked when an incessant pounding came on the door.

He groaned. "What the fuck is that?"

"I might've told Mandy she could stop by today."

"And you did this because?"

Ian hummed against Mickey's neck. "She's your sister Mickey."

"And the sky is blue and we're all going to die." He muttered. "Maybe she'll leave."

He barely finished the statement before another round of knocking came and a yell that somehow penetrated their door and made it up the stairs.

"I know you're in there you raging homosexuals stop pounding ass and let me in!"

"Oh jesus fuck go get her before the neighbors revolt."

But Ian didn't have to get out of bed because Mandy got tired of waiting and simply appeared in their bedroom like the fucking Plague. Mickey vaguely remembered a time where he'd missed his sister, though in that moment he couldn't for the life of him remember why. She was obnoxious as all hell.

"How the fuck did you even get in here?" Mickey groaned pulling Ian back under the covers for the pure selfishness of his warmth.

Mandy smirked. "Ian gave me a key because he's a beautiful person and you're a dick whose been avoiding me for months while you go through a quarter life crisis. Now I brought booze galore and takeout so scooch the fuck over losers."

Mickey had made it extremely clear that Mandy, or anyone for that matter, was not to know about what went down. Maybe it was pride thing, but Mickey couldn't stomach the fact of everyone knowing. Of everyone staring at him so sure of what he was… it made him sick to think about. So he hadn't really seen his sister in months and New Year's wasn't really the time to hash out their shit. Instead he opted to keep Ian close wrapping his body around Ian's so that Mandy couldn't have him. She was always a hogging bitch when it came to Ian. Mickey was just a little . . . protective is all.

"Why are you here?" He muttered.

Ian was running his fingers in soothing circles along Mickey's back to soothe him and Mandy caught the motion.

"I needed to see some real honest love in a relationship to numb me from my raging hormones." She sighed digging into her teriyaki chicken like a savage.

He snorted. "Really? I can't for the life of me understand why someone wouldn't want to bone you when you look so cute while you're eating."

She quickly flipped him off opening her mouth to reveal the chewed contents. Ian smiled at the both of them. His Milkovichs were the cutest in all the land. He valued their grumpy company more than anything in the world.  He watched Mickey's eyes get bright as the sun when Mandy produced his pot stickers and he was so fucking proud of him for enjoying his food again. His face scrunched up when he chewed and he was cute and adorable and the most amazing person in the entire world and couldn't just help but think . . .

"Mandy come with me to get drinks!" Ian snapped all of a sudden.

Each of his Milkovichs arched a brow in perfect synchronization.

"Where's the fire?"

"I—I bit into a pepper and all my water's gone, now move your ass I haven't been training you to move this slow!" He huffed tugging her towards the door.

Mickey shook his head wondering how he'd ended up in love with such a crazy person, but figured there more pressing matters to deal with like where the fuck was the kung pao chicken?!

"You are such a pushy little fucker you know that?"

Ian set his hands on Mandy's shoulders shaking her small body like the whack job he was.

"You are crazy Ian Gallagher. And not because you have a mental disorder either your ass is just straight up crazy." She huffed.

"I know and that's great and all but I have the most important news of my life to share with you and it's gonna go a lot easier if you shut the hell up."

And for once is Mandy's life, she did.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Mickey surprised him by using his bonus to check them into the Renaissance New York Times Square Hotel. It was basically a way for them to see the ball drop without freezing their nuts off. Actually it was so close that Mickey's bonus didn't cover it and he had to drop about six grand to get the job done. It was super expensive, super over the top, and super Ian. He lost his shit to say the least. Really. Mickey thought for a second there he was having trouble breathing.

"Hey, hey you okay man? It's just a fucking hotel." He said eyebrow raised.

Ian nodded taking a shuttering breath. "Y—Yea I just . . . this is perfect! Mickey this is so perfect thank you."

And then he did that thing where he hugged him and it was cute and they kissed and blah blah blah. Long story short it'd been a hell of a year and there was an open bar so Mickey didn't see the problem in spoiling his boyfriend a little bit.

They packed overnight bags and headed for the hotel after the longest skype call in the history of skype calls with the Gallaghers. Ian was a fluttering sweaty mess, but Mickey thought that had something to do with how expensive the place was so he let it go. They had a kick ass suite that Mickey wanted to jump butt ass naked in immediately because he had a feeling they only had so long before Mandy showed up despite being specifically NOT invited. He'd gotten to a point, sometime around Christmas, where he simply just wanted to be naked. He wanted to see and feel his body and make himself see that it was all that he had. It was an idea they'd talked about in his group sessions and though he'd never admit it, Mickey was hip to the idea. And apparently so was Ian.

"So I was thinking we'd meet up with—woah."

"Meet up with who?"

"N—no body. Nobody ever again let's just stay here so I can look at you naked and be happy."

Mickey lifted the complimentary champagne off the table and gulped straight from the bottle till a frothy line slid achingly down his chest causing Ian to lick his lips.

"Get on the bed then would ya?" He smirked

Needless to say that he did.

Ian had a bitch of a fixation with Mickey's mouth. Like when he bit his lip or licked at his lip or stuck his tongue out. Or maybe when he unzipped Ian's jeans with his teeth. That was a good one right there. The drizzling of champagne on his dick before his hot mouth engulfed him was . . . beautiful. They were still working on getting back into their comfort zones with sex and intimacy and let's just say Ian was more than willing to stamp an A plus on Mickey's progress report. By the time Mandy showed up at their suite they were red faced and grinning at each other and she totally caught her whore of a brother wiping at the corners of his mouth while Ian giggled like a twelve year old girl. Gays, man.

"Come in we were just—unpacking."

Mickey's hands wrapped around Ian from behind slipping dangerously close to little Ian, something Mandy would now require therapy or acid to get rid of.

"I was unpacking something alright." He whispered in Ian's ear.

"Oh for the love of god, remind me why I decided to spend New Year's with a couple." She gagged pushing her way past them.

"Because Mickey paid six grand and it got us an extra ticket and you know there will be rich guys with hopefully better up bringing than your previous boyfriends?" Ian guessed in monotone voice still staring at Mickey.

Mandy sighed. "You got me there."

She peered at the bed with its rumpled sheets and obvious scent of sex and knew she'd be sleeping on the couch. It was about to be a long fucking night.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Mickey was two whiskeys down and on his first beer of the night when he got hit on. The event was big and elaborate and lot of rich people flaunting expensive shit all over the place. Ian, Mickey, and Mandy were some of the only ones who were just thankful, and lucky, to be there. He was standing at the bar waiting for Mandy to give him his boyfriend back when the guy approached him. He led with a Rolex and an expensive glass of scotch slipping his hand onto Mickey's lower back giving off the sense that he wasn't used to not getting his way.

"What's a handsome thing like you doing over here all alone?" He murmured.

He was at least fifty but obviously kept himself together. He looked fit and tan and evil, so Mickey could see how that worked for him. But he'd be lying if he said he didn't look around thinking he was talking to someone else.

"Really?" He snorted. "Me?"

The guy smiled. "Don't doubt yourself so much, you've got gorgeous eyes, wonderful skin, and an ass anyone could notice a mile away. What do you say we forget this ball drop and go drop some things of our own?"

Mickey was a lot of things. Insecure. Sometimes unreasonable. Hasty and impatient. But he wasn't desperate and he wasn't fishing for compliments not even after everything he'd been through. Something he'd learn though, that as fucked up as it is, having the most perfect person in the world tell you you're wonderful doesn't feel nearly as good as having two randoms say the same thing. It feels good to be complimented and anyone who tells you that it doesn't is a lying sack of shit. He'd spent a large amount of his life rejecting the idea that he could be something good and he'd sent a very small amount of his life doing dangerous things to fix it. So for the New Year he wondered what would happen if he just told himself he was fucking awesome; he wondered desperately if one day he'd start to believe it.

"I appreciate that man but I'm gonna have to turn you down."

A shocked look hit his face and Mickey waited for him to make a huge outburst and tell him how shitty he really was. But instead he just nodded.

"Can I ask why?"

Mickey paused at that but quickly turned in his seat to point out the red head who could give a lap dance like no other but looked like a fish out of water when dancing with Mandy.

"That right there is the most annoying most wonderful fucker I've ever met and he kind of laid claim on me when I was thirteen. Nothing personal." He shrugged.

"Well then it was very nice to meet you anyway . . .?"

"Mickey."

"Mickey. Hmm. Okay then. Have a great evening Mickey."

And then he left and it was like the world should've ended but it didn't. Everything was pretty okay.

Meanwhile Mandy and Ian were not dancing for fun but for strategy and that strategy was to stay as far away from Mickey as possible.

"Well when are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know I was thinking when the ball dropped but won't it be too loud? And then what if he says no and it's like everyone else is clapping and cheering and I'm just sitting there sobbing? This is a terrible idea Mandy why am I doing this? Who told me I should do this?!"

"Will you get yourself to-fucking-gether Gallagher, jesus!" she snapped. "It's gonna be fine. Just do it during the countdown alright? Mickey's not gonna fucking count anyway he's too pretentious. It'll be FINE."

They ate some fancy dinner written in french and Ian promised Mickey he'd order him real food later. He knew he kept that Gallagher around for a reason. They drink and dance—Mickey stands still—and watch the same people as last year and the year before perform down below. Mickey thinks he could've gone the rest of his life without seeing Taylor Swift perform. He also makes a mental note to tease the ever loving fuck out of Mandy because she was most definitely mouth the words to whatever Bieber tune was being lip-synced. The closer they got to midnight the more smashed he got. You give a Milkovich an open bar and they take it as a personal challenge after all.

Ryan Seacrest announced the final break before the ball drop and Ian really started to freak out because he was without a doubt about to make a fool of himself in front of a bunch of rich people. He left the dance floor and Mandy wasn't far behind as he made his way to Mickey. His heart was racing and he suddenly wishing he'd gotten himself a drink make he could just  . . .

"And we are just one minute away from the New Year Folks."

"Hey." Mickey smiled face dopey and shiny with alcohol.

"Hey." He sighed nervously. "I—I got something to ask ya."

"Okay, out with it then."

He peered back apprehensively at Mandy who gave him an air shove form across the bar. They were already down to thirty seconds and— _wow is it hot in here or just me? Oh god. He's gonna say no. This is so incredibly stupid!_

"Ian, hey man you okay?"

Ian swallowed so hard he swore all of Times Square heard it.

"I—I just, we've been together so long and I . . . I wanna continue that. I wanna . . . I wanna be with you forever. I want you to marry me Mick."

"What? I can't hear shit over these assholes!"

"FIVE!"

"I wanna marry you!"

"FOUR!"

"YOU WANNA WHAT?!"

"THREE!"

"TWO!"

"WILL YOU MARRY ME MICKEY?!"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

Everyone around them jumped and cheered but Ian had never been so still. His heart was thudding in his throat and the ring was slippery with sweat in his too big hands. He just knew Mickey was gonna say no.

"Holy shit I did not see that one coming."

Ian winced, throat dry. "So . . . will you?"

Mickey sighed. "You realize this has never worked out well for anyone we know right?"

"Yep."

"And you still wanna do it?"

"Yes. We're different." Ian assured him.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Sure we are. Alright Gallagher."

"Huh"

"I stutter? You gonna put the goddamn ring on me or not?"

Ian had never heard more romantic words in his whole entire life. He shoved the silver band roughly onto Mickey's finger afraid that he might change his mind if he didn't move fast enough. Then he lifted that adorable man off the ground and gave him the kiss of a life time. All around them people were clapping and hugging but the biggest celebration of all was happening right between them and it was the only one they cared about.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

Mickey was extremely hungry. He was safely under the covers away from sunlight, but that did little to curb the pounding in his head. There was a warm mass of body lying sideways next to him. He snuggled against it as little flashes of the tail end of last night fluttered towards him. He remembered touching and gripping and moaning. Peaking at Ian through the slit of an eye he sighed in contentment.

"Ian wake up and endure this goddamn hangover with me." He grumbled rolling over until a pizza box, bottle of champagne, and a bottle of lube all tumbled over onto the floor.

They were naked and there was a beautiful pain in his ass that meant only one thing. He plopped down on Ian's chest hitting him roughly with his fist.

"Ouch, dammit Mickey."

"Holy shit."

"What?" Ian muttered cracking an eye open.

"There's a ring on my finger. Ian why is there a ring on my finger?"

"Excuse me?"

Mickey winced collapsing on Ian's chest. "The fuck happened last night?"

"Oh my god you don't remember? I can't believe you don't remember!"

Ian hopped out of bed causing Mickey to smack into the mattress as he hunted for clothes.

"Come on man I don't have it in me to fight right now, so just tell me what I did and we'll agree I was wrong alright?"

"I proposed to you you asshole! And you said yes!" The redhead growled.

"Oh shit . . . I said yes?"

That only seemed to set the stick of dynamite that was his boyfriend off even more. He was gonna leave so Mickey had to fix it as soon as possible. With a heavy heart, and head for that matter, he stumbled butt ass naked after him stopping Ian at the door.

"Hey, look I'm just a little out of it right now. Just give me a chance."

Ian's anger quickly got worse. He got sad.

"That was the best night of my life. You . . . I never thought you'd say yes. And now I know you only said yes cause you were drunk and worst of all don't even remember."

And damn Mickey all to hell cause a sad Ian Gallagher was his kryptonite.

"I'm here now ain't I? Just ask me again."

"I don't think I want to." He mumbled.

Mickey huffed yanking the ring off his finger. "Fine, I'll fucking do it."

"Huh?"

"Mary me asshole."

Ian snorted. "Aw shucks Mick ain't that just the sweetest thing I ever heard."

"Could you not be a dick right now? I'm trying Ian."

Ian sighed peering into Mickey's eyes as if to check if he was lying. Whatever he saw had to be good cause he seemed to settle before glancing down at the ring Mickey was presenting him with.

"That'll never fit. It was built for you short stumpy little finger. That might as well be a toe ring for me."

Mickey punched him hard enough in the arm that his laugh was a little wounded.

"It's yours." He said warmly, plucking the ring from Mickey and sliding it back on him. "I wanted it to be yours."

Mickey glanced at the ring as it dawned on him just what he was agreeing to.

"The shit I put up with because of you." He muttered.

And then he was being lifted up in the air by fucking Sasquatch and yanked back to bed. It's good. Ian's still a little upset, but still completely overjoyed and they get a good rhythm going that had Mickey crying out like the little bitch he had now become. They eat pizza for breakfast and drink more champagne before Ian bends him over the bed again. It's a good start to the year and he might not even despise the ring on his finger.

"I ain't wearing white."

Ian laughed. "Course not Mick you're about as pure as a gym sock."

"Hey I've only been with one person unlike some of us you asshat!"

He frowned a little. "None of them were you Mick. I—I can't even remember them. I was high . . . and manic."

Mickey sighed. "I know alright? Wasn't trying to start a fight I promise."

"Mkay . . . Who's gonna be your best man?"

"Ugh no one, I hate people."

"You don't hate me."

"That's where you're wrong freckles I just hate you least."

 Ian grinned leaning in to kiss him as if he'd just wooed him with romance.

"I love you the most."

"Oh god you're gonna be even more of a sap than usual."

"Obviously." Ian smirked. "Also gonna thank you more than ever."

"Yea?"

He moved slowly straddling Mickey's hips.

"You bet'cha."

"I want a big ass cake by the way. Twelve tier. I wanna eat cake for break lunch and dinner." Mickey explained over the complimentary breakfast buffet.

Ian nodded. "I want a dance. One dance with video documentation and ass grabbing."

Mickey's fingers turn white as bone around his fork. He seems to choke on the words, and his pancakes. It takes him a minute to swallow it all down.

"Fine" He muttered. "But we ain't doing no legit shit with like a flowery field and a priest. Kev can print out a marriage license online and if you hire a wedding planner I'll cut your balls off and use your ring as a cock ring."

Ian raised an eyebrow dubiously. "Have you seen my balls?"

Ugh fiancés.

There came this really weird moment where they kind of realized they'd been together their entire lives. And despite this stigma of misogyny not working or of homosexuals being more promiscuous or hell even kids from broken homes not being able to have healthy relationships they were there. They were there and they worked their asses off every day to love each other. They were normal people. They paid bills now and they went to work every day and went fucking grocery shopping. And now there was a goddamn ring on his finger and this smiling, grinning asshole telling him all of the embarrassing things he wanted to do to pronounce his love for him. But after all the years of self-doubt, self-hate, self-mutilation even . . . maybe Mickey fucking deserved to be celebrated. It's not so bad to let someone praise you. In fact it feels really fucking amazing.

 So it was with a clear conscious that he threw every single thought he'd ever had on marriage away, and he took the man that he loved's hand and intertwined their fingers tight together. He was loved by the only person that he wanted to be loved by. Fuck, why not celebrate that?

"I do remember last night you know." Mickey mumbled when they settled into their own covers that night. "And I always would've said yes."

And when Ian wrapped his arms around him and kissed his skin his whole body felt light and warm. There was no one else he'd do it for, but he knew he'd got through the ringer for Ian Gallagher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh it's okay go ahead and yell at me. Life had just been a little hectic lately with college applications and what not, but I'm trying y'all! I'm officially on break and despite working most of it I should be able to get into this story again. I hoped you liked it, and I hope you enjoyed the proposal. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.   
> Find me:  
> zankivich.tumblr.com.


	21. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is 26. Mickey is 28. Wedding bells ring and through a high of newly wed bliss life comes to rear it's ugly head. When Mickey is confronted with a part of his past he truly thought was gone forever, he learns that maybe nothing ever is. In a desperate attempt to escape the craziness around them, Ian and Mickey go on a honeymoon. The result is truly astronomical.

Ian is twenty-six when his family comes to town. His engagement to Mickey hadn't affected much thankfully, Mickey didn't freak out and Ian limited his giddiness to an hour a day. They'd told his family over skype and the girls had jumped for joy while the boys rolled their eyes spouting snarky comments about, "it's about damn time." As they settled into the New Year and spring hit, Ian decided Mickey was right and they shouldn't wait. What was there to wait for? He'd been waiting fifteen years to marry this man; he didn't wanna wait another second. He came to this conclusion, as he did to most conclusions when they were in bed together.

He'd come home after a long day of work, two men short on his latest project so he did two positions himself, and had crawled into bed immediately curling up in Ian's arms. His face was cute and scrunched up as he yawned and his body was soft and pliant under Ian's hands. He loved him so much. So goddamn much.

"Mick." He whispered.

"Shhh." The older man huffed.

Ian chuckled pressing their foreheads together. "Don't wanna shhh, wanna tell you something."

"Hmph?" Was his reply because he'd apparently stopped using words.

"I kinda wanna marry you." He whispered.

Mickey chuckled. "You already asked me that, 'member Freckles?"

"Yea. Just like saying it is all. I, Ian Gallagher get to marry Mickey Milkovich. That's not something anyone else gets to say. You're mine."

The cheeky bastard beamed at that lips curling up automatically. Mickey could feel his cheeks warm at that, to just know he wanted him that much.

"You're suck a dork." He groaned hiding his face in Ian's chest.

"A lucky dork. The luckiest dork of them all."

Mickey peaked up at him and Ian saw it in his eyes. He saw how nervous and giddy it made him when Ian would pronounce his love the way he did. But he was glad that he did. If it meant that smile he always felt the need to hide came out, Ian would tell him every day, wanted to. He wanted to make Mickey blush and squirm and—the ultimate goal really—cry. He wanted to love him as hard and as long as he physically could in a way no one ever seemed to be capable where they came from. And so it was there in their comfy bed with Mickey's icy feet finding refugee in his legs that he came to an important decision. He had to marry Mickey Milkovich as soon as possible.

Cut forward to Fiona and Vee bustling into his apartment armed with highlighters, sticky notes, and wedding magazines. Mickey supposedly had work but, Ian had a sneaking suspicion Mandy's bar had just earned a grumpy patron instead. That was okay with him. He didn't care much about the how or where either he just wanted to marry him . . . like now.

"I can't believe you're marrying Mickey Milkovich." Fiona breathed in disbelief over Wedding Digest.

Ian smiled. "I know, me neither. Never thought he'd say yes. I'm pretty lucky huh?"

Vee smiled back at him. "You really love him."

"More than anything in the world. He's it."

"Well I'm happy for you love bug. Nobody deserves it more than you guys."

"Thanks Fi."

They planned to marry in this really pretty little garden with a whole bunch of white flowers and nothing too seemingly "gay". It was cheap but it had a beautiful little gazebo. There was a tent for the reception and a place to put Mickey's big ass cake. That was all that they needed. No big plans. No huge expensive venue. Just a place to say I do and get drunk after. It was kind of perfect. It was a small wedding. The Gallaghers. A Milkovich. Some Balls. A few of the guys from Ian's work that he could stand. All of that kind of fell away though once they were in front of each other.

Mickey wouldn't walk down the aisle, of course, so they simply stood in front of each other. Ian in his crisp black suit and Mickey in his navy blue. He was beautiful. Skin pale and creamy, eyes so blue and clear he got lost in them the second their eyes met. Ian wanted to touch him. Not even sexually, though there would definitely be time for that, he just wanted his hands to grab on to the most amazing person in his life, the person he was choosing to spend that life with.

He was supposed to hold his hands while they exchanged vows but he found himself taking his face instead. Mickey's feelings must've been on par with his cause he didn't even scowl, but simply smiled back at him hands perching rightfully on top of Ian's. Somewhere out in the crowd Lip or Carl was murmuring that this was officially the gayest thing they'd ever seen, literally, but neither of them could have cared. They only cared for each other right then.

"Mick I . . . You're my best friend. You taught me how to shoot a gun. How to distract people while you cased the joint. You taught me how to make it through the winter with the lost and found and a cigarette. You taught me how to love safely and fully. You taught me I could give myself to someone and they wouldn't give me back. You've always wanted to keep me, no matter how crazy and ridiculous I am. You love me for what I am and all of the flaws that you don't think are flaws. I was only five when we met, and although my views on you haven definitely evolved, at the core I think they're still pretty much the same. I still think you're the coolest human being I've ever met. I still think you're scary and tough and wonderful and smart and sexy as all hell. I still think when you open up; it's amazing the things you come up with. I think you're perfect the way that you are and I'm so happy to be the one that gets to tell you that every day. You're the only person I ever wanna give myself to."

They were simple words, but they tore Mickey to shreds as they were intended to. To be fair Ian had warned him he would get him to cry.

"Shit." He mumbled thickly. "You're a dick you know that?"

Ian nodded chuckling softly through a tear or two of his own.

"Meant every word of it. Your turn."

There was a lot riding on this moment for Mickey. He didn't tell Ian how he felt about him a fraction of the time that Ian did. And when he did it was always in a joking manner or riddled with puns and cursing. So he had decided if he was gonna let himself be embarrassed in front of everyone they knew he might as well go all out, right?

"Ian, I uh got a habit of not telling people how I really feel. Unless I'm angry, I tend to be pretty good at that." Ian laughed at that and Mickey was immensely distracted by the sound. "But you've always seen right through that. You've always know when I was scared or sad or angry, you knew. I think you knew I was in love with you even before I did. And I guess I always just assumed you would know how I felt and I never really told you cause it's hard for me you know? But I want you to know that I think I've loved you my whole life. I always say I just hate you less than everybody else, but the truth of the matter is there isn't a person on this planet that makes me feel close to what you do. Coming from where we did, from what I was no one ever told me I could have you. I never thought I could deserve something this good. You just make me . . . really fucking happy alright? Every part of me that everyone else hated you loved until I loved it too and you made me feel like I was good enough. I couldn't ever love someone the way I love you, and if this is forever it's a pretty good life to me. I'm in this thing freckles, always."

The silence that took over after Mickey's vows seemed indefinite. Ian's mouth was open, as was the rest of the Gallaghers. Kevin, who was supposed to be a fucking professional for Christ's sake was crying in front of them. So it may have been the most Mickey had ever talked in one sitting without yelling at someone, but Jesus it wasn't like he was an emotionless asshole all the time.

He rocked back and forth on his heels, hands still clasped in Ian's.

"You gonna kiss the bride Firecrotch or—"

And Ian was on that man like no tomorrow. Kev eventually found his composure to say "you may now kiss the groom" but it was useless at that point. They were completely wrapped up in each other. Hands in hair messed up perfectly gelled do's. Tongue and biting and sucking and crying—Jesus Ian. It was the most amazing moment of their life together.

Debbie is the photographer for the night, it pays to have a sister who went to college for photography, and business, and she gets all the good moments. She's there when they cut the cake and shove it into each other's face. She's there when they sit at the reception dinner and make out the whole time instead of eating. She's there when Ian smiled like Mickey is the whole world and when Mickey lays his head on Ian's shoulder and smiles just the same. She was even there for the dance and wasn't that special for everyone.

"Christ Gallagher are you really putting your hand on my hips right now?" He muttered.

"Mhm. You got nice hips Mick."

"Don't think you can't get punched on your wedding day asshole."

Ian smiled. "I think you mean our wedding day, pumpkin."

"God you're annoying."

They move awkwardly side to side as some sappy song played in the background and the smile on Ian's face illuminated them in its heavy glow. Mickey's arms rested around his neck allowing him to lead. And it wasn't the worst thing. Mickey wasn't about to sign them up for fucking salsa classes anytime soon, but he could stand to indulge Ian. He would always indulge Ian.

Somewhere in there they start kissing and they don't really seemed to stop. Mickey's more in love with this sappy ass redhead than he's ever been before. He has no interest in making nice with in-laws that have been on his ass for the past decade cause they're all fucking annoying. All he knows is that Ians' there and he got him to do something he wore he would never do while still managing to get him to like it. The fear that this would ultimately lead to their demise still rested dimly in the back of his mind, but he would deal. Because of Ian. Because Ian was worth it.

"Thank you for telling me how you really feel by the way." Ian whispered once everyone else had joined them on the dance floor and the attention no longer centered on them.

"Did you know?" Mickey asked looking up at him with hesitant sparkling eyes.

"Not really. I mean I always had an idea you stayed with me this long. But especially when we were younger it was frustrating. I was so insecure it was hard to assume. Some days I thought you hated me and others I'd swear on anything that you loved me. Even then, to hear it to that extent . . . Mickey that was beautiful."

Mickey shrugged lightly. "Couldn't let you one up me in front of your obnoxious ass family."

And then he leaned so that his head was on Ian's chest, his arms tight around him.

"Could never hate you Ian . . . I love every single part of you." He mumbled.

Ian's arms brought him even closer spinning them into their own little world.

"Me too Mick, me too."

They eat cake for dinner that night and have the best four rounds of sex that anyone could ask for. And when Mickey whispers those three words over and over again it makes Ian comes completely undone until he's crying out into the succulent flesh of his lover. All in all it's a pretty good fucking night.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

The bliss of marriage is a good one, something Ian falls into easily. It took them a minute. But they'd done it and he had no doubt that turn out would be nothing like their parents. He liked seeing Mickey with his ring on, loved it even. It wasn't even that things changed all that much, but he just felt closer to him than ever before. It was good for them. It felt almost spiritual.

He walked into Mickey's office during lunch armed with his favorites from the Italian place up the street from Ian's job. It was a little too out of the way from their home so they didn't go often, but he knew it was Mickey's favorite. So he chose his day off to go surprise him. He'd never been to his job before; Mickey was weird about work. Something about keeping his men in line. Ian didn't mind much. He let him have that world to himself, didn't mean he couldn't visit.

"Mr. Milkovich-Gallagher your twelve o'clock mistress is here." Ian sing-sang as he made his way into Mickey's office.

His husband, damn skippy his husband, was looking over some important building papers or something that would go directly over Ian's head. But he had on crisp button up and his sleeves were rolled up and he was sexy as fuck, so Ian would give that a check in the increasing fantasies about Mickey column. 

Mickey snorted. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"I come bearing food and probable blow jobs and that's the greeting I get? I'm hurt, baby." He smirked.

Mickey rolled his eyes but otherwise got up from his desk to give Ian a kiss that only a couple still ridiculously hot for each other could give. Italian food gets him going, apparently.

They ate food and sat snuggled up together. Ian was in sweats, which Mickey envied but he got to sit on Ian's lap without any teasing, so he'd take the win. For Mickey marriage had meant he let go a little bit of the things he used to be embarrassed of. The public displays of affection. The things that once were "too gay". He stopped worrying, and he just focused on the things that made him feel good. Most of the time that was Ian.

"I've got work to do ya know." Mickey huffed as Ian completely took advantage of his neck.

"Mhm."

He didn't let up, instead choosing to lick his way to Mickey's ear nibbling and breathing and . . . ugh.

"Paper work . . . F—Fucking drafts from the architect. I should . . . I should…"

"You should get that fucking belt out the way so I can deep throat you."

That too.

Mickey figured that by standing behind his desk and facing away from the door it wouldn't be so terribly bad that his husband was most definitely on his knees bringing out the most sinful sounds out of him. Plus Ian was due for a haircut pretty soon and there was lots to tug on.

"Holy fuck—Ian." He gasped peering down at the redhead.

Where was his gag reflex?! Like surely there must be some point where he needed to breathe or swallow or use his hands or—or something? It was straight immoral what that man could do. And he was all his. Jesus.

"Taste so good Mick." Ian moaned wantonly, licking at the underside of the shaft. "Want you to ruin my face. Mark me up with your cum. Please?"

He swallowed him down again head moving at an impeccable speed as he slurped and sucked wetly. It was a wonder that Mickey didn't come on the spot. His fingers were in his hair, the metal of his belt clapping to the rhythm of his hips as he fucked his husband's mouth pushing him towards the edge. Ian was annoying and promiscuous and stupid, but he gave the best head Mickey could ever imagine and insisted he cum on his face, what other relationship goals does a person need in their life?

"F—Fuck Ian I'm gonna cum." He stuttered hips bucking.

Ian revels in it. He moans when the first drops hit his face and preens like it's a fucking compliment. It's hot and sexy, stifling really and Mickey throbs at the sight. His back arches as he leans up on curled toes groaning out into the stale air of his office. It was a lunch for the books.

Ian grinned swiping some of the spunk off his face to lick eagerly from his fingers.

"Best dessert there is. Love the taste of your cock Mick." Ian moaned pressing a final kiss to spongy head.

He pulled his boxers up for him and his pants licking his lips the whole time. If Mickey wasn't so out of breath and floppy he'd demand that Ian let him pull his own pants up like a man. Nonetheless he was a little droopy so he watched him wipe the cum from his face before kissing him long and slow. And the weird thing is when the sex was over Ian the "sex fiend" became his usual soft, goofy self. When Mickey collapsed into his chair again he straddled him, not for sex but just to kind of say, "hey human I enjoy your existence."

"Love you." He sighed happily nuzzling his nose into Mickey's hickey spotted neck.

"Love you too."

"You should come home; we can marathon Parks and Rec again."

Mickey chuckled. "That sounds nice but I really do have to work Freckles. Just as soon as I can feel my legs again."

"Yea, okay." He frowned.

"I'll be home by seven Gallagher, I think your hormones can wait till then."

Ian sighed shifting around so they were face to face.

"I wouldn't be so sure. I'm still a newlywed Mick, without a honeymoon to fuck out my bliss. Don't be surprised if I'm naked and jacking off with a more than one finger up my ass when you come home."

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Fine we'll talk about a honeymoon when I get home. Maybe I'll finger you open too." He smirked eyeing Ian's lips.

Ian groaned softly. "Maybe you could get on me for a change. Spice things up."

"We are married now. Gotta keep the passion alive."

"Jesus Christ hurry the fuck up and come home!"

He flew out Mickey's lap tugging uncomfortably at his sweatpants as he grabbed his things. In a flurry he swept in kissing Mickey fast and hard before he was gone leaving him in a daze. Being married to Ian Gallagher there was never a dull moment that's for damn sure.

They didn't have a honeymoon, mostly because Mickey had been super busy being sexy at word and wanted to make more money after the wedding. There was; however, a very intense week before he got back to work with a noticeable limp and an inability to sit in a chair, but of course they wanted more.

*                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

"Ian Gallagher you better be in a compromising position!" Mickey yelled on his way into the house already tugging at his tie.

What he found was not his beautiful newly-wedded husband in a pale freckly pretzel with his ankles by his ears, but instead was his sister AKA the biggest boner killer in the world. Really. Boner = gone.

"Ew you two have been together a millennium, at what point do you stop having crazy sexy and start hating each other?"

Mickey snorted. "Bitch, never. We're a fucking fairy tale in this house. But like R rated, hell maybe even a little NC-17 on the weekends."

"Again . . . Ew."

"Speaking of ew, why are you here and not my husband?" He asked grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

"Awww 'husband', how domestic Mick!"

She was met with a middle finger over the door. Brothers.

"He went to get us food, so we could talk."

She was met with an eyebrow raise then. "You pregnant?"

"Wha—no Mickey, Jesus! Sit the fuck down."

He shrugged plopping himself down next to his sister. Like it would've been that far of a reach five years ago.

She pulled out a manila folder with pieces of paper spilling out of it handing it to him carefully, like it was a bomb instead of scraps of newspaper.

"The fuck is this?"

"Just open it asshole."

He peered inside where the first paper on top was an obituary for Mariya Clare Milkovich. He quickly closed it and tossed it away from him.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? What is this shit?!"

"I found her Mick. She's buried right here in New York not even an hour away. Found some family too. We have grandparents, can you believe that? Actual grandparents. There's actual people related to us, not connected to Terry by blood. Just mom."

He ripped himself from the seat completely rejecting the conversation.

"Mick" and her voice is definitely wet. "There's a letter. She . . . talks about us, about me and you."

He turns to look at her with wide, scared eyes. No one had ever loved Mickey. In his mind he never had a family worth shit—besides Mandy of course—so he went out and found one of his own. He was happy. He was taken care of, loved. He didn't need the what ifs and what could have beens to come in and taint that. Everything was beautiful. He didn't want to lose that.

"I can't deal with this shit." He muttered grabbing his cigarettes and heading for the balcony.

That's where Ian found him, two cigarettes later, door sliding open and arms wrapping tight around shoulders. He hadn't realized he was shaking until Ian tried to steady him. With a shaky breath he hid his face in the warmth of Ian's neck where the tears couldn't exist because no one saw them. When his mother died he'd pushed Ian away, and so it felt good for the both of them that this time he was able to pull him closer.

Ian sat quiet until Mickey was ready, until he took a deep breath and nuzzled closer.

"She tell you?"

"Yea . . . That's rough Mick, I'm sorry." He sighed rubbing his hands up and down Mickey's arms.

"She shouldn't have fucking done it. Everything was perfect."

Ian nodded. "Everything is perfect. Maybe she just wants to know what your mother had to say. That's not so bad is it? To get some closure?"

Mickey groaned. "No Ian. I'm not doing it."

"Hey. I'm not saying that you have to. I'm just saying don't hate Mandy for wanting to know. If there was a chance my mom loved me I'd wanna know."

He did a tiny, little shrug as if to feign innocence but they both knew the truth.

"Goddammit Ian things are good, why should I try and fucking jeopardize that?" He snapped.

"Hey look at me. You don't wanna go deeper because you genuinely don't think it's worth it; that's fine. But if you're just scared cause you think this is gonna change something between us, don't be. We're good. This isn't going to change that. I'm still going to love you tomorrow. I want you to get the closure you never got okay? I just want you to be happy. This doesn't have to be sad."

Mickey looked up at with his sad, frustrated eyes. Because although the fear that whatever this was would harm his present was tumultuous, the fear that it would it would make it better was even scarier.

"I'll read it if you read it." The redhead offered.

His eyebrows knitted together and he just wanted to sit out there on the balcony and forget everything that was going on inside. But he wasn't a little kid anymore, and it wasn't like he could run across the street and hide under blankets with Ian. He had to face whatever was waiting for him in that folder. He just didn't have to do it alone.

They sit on the couch, after Ian offers him and Mandy the bottle of jack, and Ian reads the letter. Mickey's surrounded on both sides by the two most important people in his life and he's still scared shitless. Mandy reached out gripping his hand tightly, and the notion that he wasn't the only person afraid did a little to calm his nerves.

"Dear Ma. Sorry I haven't been able to write in a while. Terry's not working right now and I've been pulling doubles at the hospital. We're okay though. We're making it, just like we always do. So make sure you tell daddy not to worry. It's almost Halloween and I think Mandy's gonna be a princess for the third year in a row. It's okay though I love that she knows that she's royalty. She lost a tooth and one of the kids made fun of her and my Mickey, my baby boy he goes and he knocks the kid's head into a door till he lost a tooth of his own. How fucked up is that?" They all paused to laugh and Mandy's hand tightened around Mickey's. "Tony, Iggy, and Colin I feel like I've lost them. They're almost teenagers and they're off doing their own thing getting lost in Chicago. Sometimes I understand why you decided to stop with me. But Mickey and Mandy are still my babies. Mickey's even got a friend now across the street. The trouble they get into, Ma you wouldn't believe it. But the kid just follows Mickey around like a puppy ya know? He's just like that. Your eyes follow him. Just like Mandy's my princess I think Mickey's my prince. They're both special and beautiful and wonderful. I just hope they don't let this town get to them. It's not like the city. It's colder, and I'm not talking about the temperature. Some days I wonder if we made the right choice, but I'll never regret my decisions. I made some beautiful babies. All of them. I just hope I can give 'em the best of my abilities. I'm doing fine. I always will; I promise. I love you and I miss you and daddy so much. Yours truly, Mariya."

Somewhere in there Mandy's face had made its way into Mickey's shoulder and she managed to hide some tears of her own. Mickey was just frozen in place, her words echoing through him as if he was hallow. It hurt. But it hurt in a weird and terrible way, the way that losing a loved one does. It hurt because they loved her so much and there was just this emptiness, a cutoff where they didn't get another word, another hug, or a kiss. She was just gone. And it hurt so deeply, but they couldn't deny the happiness that thinking about her brought. And maybe that's why it hurt so badly. Because she made them feel good, as she always had, but now her death was a constant stain in that happiness.

"Alright so what's your plan here? You wanna go visit the grave?"

She nodded hesitantly reminding Mickey when they were kids and she was just scared without a thick skin to hide behind. With mom around she'd never needed one anyway.     

Mickey sighed. "And I'm guessing you're coming to too?"

Which was really just code for: Freckles you better now make me do this shit alone; I need you.

Ian nodded quickly. "Of course."

With that there was really just one other question to answer.

"Can I eat my fuckin food first?"

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Cemeteries are creepy. It doesn't matter how much they fucking water the grass or how many bouquets you place around the shit hole. It's still dead people sitting in the ground and it's still weird as all hell. Ian had grabbed Mickey's hand at some point on the way there and like hell was he letting go with all that death surrounding him.

Mandy lead the way armed with a bouquet of her own and a determination that eerily reminded him of their mom. They'd never gotten a funeral for her and their mourning had been completely different. Mandy had sobbed into her sheets for months clutching their mom's favorite sweater while Mickey isolated himself from everyone but the one man he shouldn't have been near. Who could tell which one was more fucked up?

The tombstone was a massive slab of stone with sharp angles jutting at a slant. There was her name engraved deep into the granite alongside beloved mother, daughter, and wife. The word wife disgusted him because he couldn't help but feel like it was all Terry's fault that she was there in the goddamn ground rotting away instead of being with them. But at least they knew her kids had cared. That she had been loved by someone. They stand there for a while all touching at some point or another. They remember and they love with all of their beings because that's what she fucking deserved.

And when Mandy leaves and it's just them, just Ian peeling off his clothes and his shoes and holding him under the covers he lets his lips move. Mom would've wanted him to be happy. Mom thought he was a fucking prince.

"Take me on a honeymoon Gallagher. Where no one knows who we are and I can pretend I don't exist."

Ian doesn't argue.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"Okay I know I said I wanted a honeymoon, but couldn't you have chosen a place on the ground?!"

Ian snorted. "Technically the Dominican Republic is on the ground Mick."

"They why didn't we fuckin drive?"

So Mickey's afraid of heights in the funniest turn of events ever. Ian had made the mistake of making a height joke and was sporting a huge welt on his arm because of it. Honeymoon here we come.

"Relax." Ian commanded warmly in his ear.

Mickey's eyes followed his husband's hand into his lap fingers most definitely not reaching to intertwine with his.

"Are you trying to get us tossed in a Dominican Republic jail?" The older man hissed.

"Shhhh. You talk too much, Mickey. Just. Relax."

His hand tightened around him giving him a firm stroke through his shorts that he hadn't wanted to wear. Stress didn't begin to cover what Mickey had been feeling lately. With Mandy and their mom and work being under staffed Mickey was running himself ragged. By the time they'd both arranged for time off and Ian had made the plans he hadn't wanted to go. He'd almost had to drag the son of a bitch on the plane. An orgasm was exactly what Mickey needed as far as Ian was concerned.

Armed with the complimentary blanket and the human shield that was his own body Ian got to work making sure his husband's mind was completely clear of everything but pleasure.

"Jesus, Ian." He mumbled as he locked plentifully at his palm.

"You stress too much. We're relatively, at least between the two of us, healthy, and can actually afford to leave the Country for our honeymoon. What could we possibly have to be upset about?"

"We could die." Mickey tried, hips involuntarily chasing the confines of his husband's fist.

Ian leaned in lips trailing the shell of his ear. "Then you would die in the mist of having the only person who knows your body better than you do bringing you to an overwhelmingly, powerful climax. Now you tell me that's not the way you wanna go."

"You suck."

"I do, but I figure I'll save that for the hotel room."

His laugh was sharp, and a little twisted which of course went straight to Mickey's groin. The litter whimper he couldn't bite back had Ian grinning his ass off. Mickey really hated him. He could feel all of the blood rushing down, could feel Ian's large hand squeezing at the head. Ian worked him exactly how he liked it. Rough and slow till his toes curled and his heart beat began to stutter. God did he hated him.

"I—Ian." Mickey huffed.

His fingers had finally unclenched from the arm rests only to dig into Ian's arm instead.

"Better be quiet Mick. You wouldn't want people to think you're getting jacked off on an airplane."

Ian's grip got rougher, his stroke got faster and Mickey fought for self-control. It shouldn't have felt as good as it did but it was Ian. So of course it did.

"Such a dick." Mickey groaned hiding his face in Ian's neck to hide the sound as he completely came undone.

Ian took care of him of course, wiping up the mess and getting his pants zipped up. And when it was all set and done he let him lean on him while he slept because that's what good husbands do. They let you sleep on their shoulder after really intense orgasms.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

It's beautiful. Sand as white as bones, like powder between their toes. The water is that turquoise kind of blue, the blue you only see on brochures. Everyone's smiling and relaxing and it's the complete opposite of Southside or New York. They enter a state of shock that quickly turns to excitement. They shed clothes and squirt sunblock all over each other. The resort is on the beach, so they walk straight from their hotel room down to the water, where a bar rests in a pool. They get the biggest containers of alcohol they've ever seen. It's a pretty decent start to a vacation.

"Let's just live here forever alright?" Mickey sighed happily.

"Sure Mick. Whatever you say."

His eyes traveled to his husband's lips as he drank a gigantic sip of his frozen alcoholic beverage.

"How do you think they feel about the gays here?"

"It's safe. Specifically looked for a resort that made it a point to be LGBTQ friendly. You may kiss me husband."  He snorted.

It was a beautiful place where one could drink all day long and do literally nothing before getting dressed and going out to party all night. As much as Mickey wasn't one for clubs he'd read some crazy shit about the Dominican Republic, and definitely didn't mind testing the theories. Just as long as Ian was by his side. And no one else's apparently.

"The fuck you think you're doing Freckles?" He spluttered as Ian stepped out of the bathroom that night.

"Uh getting ready for the club. Remember?"

Mickey stepped up close grabbing for the three buttons at the top of his shirt that his husband had neglected in his journey to get ready.

"You trying to look like a fag for sale? No one needs to see this chest hair but me. I'm the one who watched that shit grow in hair by hair last year."

Ian slapped at him playfully, laughing as Mickey buttoned the shirt all the way to his neck.

"It's like ninety degrees here Mick, no one's gonna wanna fuck me strictly because of my chest hair."

He scowled childishly. "You don't know. What do you know?"

"I know I wanna go bump and grind and get drunk with my husband before having my way with him."

"Bump and grind, yea okay. You take your meds?"

"Mhm. This new mix is good; it's keeping me in the game a little longer. Now come on."

"Fine. So pushy."

They walked in the cool breeze still desperately clinging to their Southside bred masculinity by refusing to wear flip-flops. The base of the club hits them hard as their immersed in a sea of adrenaline and sweat. Even though it's not Mickey's thing, and most definitely is Ian's, they have a hell of a time. You'd be surprised how intimate you can feel surrounded by people on all sides. For Mickey and Ian, it's just them, just each other pressed together. Ian leads and Mickey hold on trusting him with his life as always. The thump of the club rocks their heart beats with every swirl of their hips. They're slightly drunk, really hot, and completely in lusty love with each other. Even the greatest of clubs could not handle that power.

"Take me back to the hotel?" Ian whispered sultry against Mickey's ear.

"What you don't like it?"

He chuckled licking the shell of Mickey's ear. "Got some things I like a lot more."

"Oh. _Oh._ Yes. Yes let's do that. Come on."

And despite being twenty-six and twenty-eight years old they ran like when they were kids, when running used to be simply to see how fast your legs could carry you. They laughed at each other and at themselves, because being together was genuinely the ultimate source of pleasure either of them had ever known. And so what if they stopped to kiss each other against the wall of their resort? So what if they giggled like teenagers making out for the first time? They were married and in love, something people spend their whole lives looking for. So they reveled in it. And that's not all they reveled in either.

"Could you do me a favor?" Mickey asked. Hands tracing the v of Ian's hips sadly hidden by his shirt.

"Anything."

He licked his lips. "Just go get undressed and wait for me under the covers? And I'll be there in a minute?"

Ian grinned wide and annoyingly beautiful. "You mean?"

"I mean . . . face down, ass up Gallagher."

Most. Romantic. Words. Ever.

There is a weird tingling sensation that runs over the small of your back when you know your ass is about to be played with. They'd always talked about experimenting but ultimately it came down to the fact that Mickey was a very selfish human being and his husband had a truly amazing cock. Just like Oscar worthy dick on the real. And Ian was a giver; he liked to give, so he gave that dick any time it was needed. But they played around slightly leaving it to fingering, and suddenly it was time to join the big leagues as Mickey straddled his back and began peppering kisses to the skin.  

"You know I can't do dirty talk." He murmured with a soft nibble to his husband's shoulder.

Ian sighed in content. "Mmm I understand."

And that was the difference between them and now. They gave in to each other, made sure the other was comfortable and compromised when it was needed. Plus the sex was just a hell of a lot better.

"Your ass is so underrated." Mickey sighed cupping the globes with callused fingers. "I mean not as good as mine, but totally A plus ass."

Ian chuckled with a snort. "And you said you couldn't do dirty talk."

And then he was being licked open and the feeling made speaking a little difficult. His back immediately arched as Mickey slobbered over the puckered hole, fingers scratching roughly at his ass cheeks. Mickey took his time with his tongue and his fingers until Ian was a sobbing, withering mess, and he loved every second of it. He worshiped that ass. He made love to that ass. Someone fucks you so good for so long, kinda makes you wanna repay the favor. And he did. Oh boy did he repay the favor.

"M—Mick, Mickey please?" Ian whined hips arching in rugged broken circles.

He whispered against his thigh where the breath could course through his entire being. "Please what?"

"I need it. Please just fuck me Mickey, jesus."

Mickey grinned teeth scraping against Ian's skin as he slid to straddle his back.

"If it hurts or whatever just let me know."

Ian sighed dramatically. "Okay, already let's get this show on the road."

"And I'm the pushy one." He snorted.

But they started and once they started it was nearly impossible to stop. Ian was hot and tight and Mickey wasn't at all used to have something like that wrapped around him. He was oddly enough reminded of that terrible fucking day with the prostitute, something he'd spend a good deal of time trying to block out. And for some reason, in that moment, it didn't hurt to think of. He was just consumed by the fact that she wasn't Ian. That what Ian was giving him, what they were doing wasn't wrong, no matter what Terry and all those like him said. She was wrong. Ian was good. He felt good wrapped around him and pulling him and that wasn't something Mickey would ever forget. Being with Ian was love. And he cherished that through it all.

"F—Fuck, Mickey." Ian groaned thighs tight around Mickey's back as they moved through the sheets changing positions.

Mickey's hands held his hips pulling Ian onto him, watching the way he was engulfed by that tiny hole. It was incredibly erotic.

"Love you." Mickey sighed wrapping his arms around Ian's back so he could work himself deeper, so there wasn't a slick of space between them.

Ian reached forward hands digging into Mickey's ass as they worked each other closer and closer to the edge. The heat was stifling and the air non-existent as they panted and moaned. When they cum and they cry out acts of love and adoration it feels so good. Because this, what they have, is safe in its little bubble trapped between them. And there's no place either of them would rather be than within that safety of the other's touch. It's a blissful moment.

"Is my ass gonna hurt in the morning?" Ian whispered under the covers when the sweat had dried and their heart beats had slowed.

Mickey chuckled. "I ain't packing like you are, so I don't know but the first time I used ben-wa beads I couldn't sit for a week."

"My poor baby. No wonder you didn't wanna go to up my room. You know I thought you didn't wanna fool around with me because of that?"

"Why would you think that? I was a disgusting teenage boy, I was on you constantly."

Ian smiled dreamily. "Yea. Fiona used to yell at me to get you to cool it with the hickeys. She thought you were gonna cover me in them."

"Oh of course it was all my fault. She never saw you deep throat a cock before. You were worse than I was and I hit puberty first."

"Fuck off." He giggled hiding his face in his husband's chest. "I was just in love with you is all."

"We were teenagers, the fuck did we know about being in love?"

Ian sighed intertwining their fingers in a way he used to only be able to get away with post sex. He held them up in the air watching the way they intertwined. Mickey's knuckles, strong and callused after years of fighting and working and being. His tattoos and the scar from a knife that never really healed. He loved those hands. Had loved them his whole life.

"That it was intense, and hurtful and scary and really fucking awesome. I knew I loved you. You were beautiful. Still are." He said matter-of-factly.

Mickey looked over at him and smiled teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"You sure it wasn't the ass?"

They laughed again Ian punching him roughly before they settled together again, closer.

"It was that too, asshole. I liked all of you. Even the bad parts. Like your snoring and your pillow hogging."

"Excuse me?!"

"I married you didn't I?"

"I do not snore Gallagher! And I steal pillows to find comfort with the mammoth ginger who insists on sleeping on top of me like he's not three times my size."

Ian snorted. "So dramatic."

"I'll show you dramatic."

And suddenly their wrestling like they did when they were kids, before when it was just playful, when they were little and having fun. And then later when they would send each other longing looks and deep breaths to stop it from escalating further. And even further when it always went further, when they always went deeper.

The next morning Ian limps on their way to a couple's massage. He finally sympathizes with the bottom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck it's been a minute. I didn't even realize how long it's been since I posted. Life just kind of got on top of me I guess, but winter break has truly blessed me with both the ability to write again (and a deleted sex scene to offer a little inspiration in this cruel ass fandom). I hope you enjoyed the chapter and all that jazz and feel free to yell at me for taking so long in the comments. This if of course assuming that anyone still actually reads this story which... I guess we'll see huh?
> 
> Come say hi!  
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	22. Mommy's Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is 27 trying to figure out the balance of marriage and family and still being separate people. It doesn't help that in the midst of all that he has to confront one of his biggest fears. Mickey on the other hand struggles deeply with his family and letting himself be loved by someone other than Ian. Is it possible to let go of the pain from a parent's neglect, or will there always be a sore left to fester? That's something each of them must figure out for themselves

Ian is twenty seven when he meets Mickey's family for the first time. It's a weird thing to say the least. He'd been with Mickey going on sixteen years and the common acceptance was that his entire family was an undying breed of scummy, soulless assholes. But the notion of a different side, of someone unlike Terry gave them hope. Well it gave Mandy and Ian hope anyway. Some people weren't nearly as optimistic.

"They're probably just as bad as Terry. Just a different kind. This is fuckin' stupid." Mickey muttered as Ian fixed his tie for him.

"No one's as bad as Terry. No one. It's like Mel Gibson, Donald Trump, and then Terry."

He snorted. "Trump almost won that fucking election . . . twice. Asshole rule the world man."

"And nice guys look cuter in button ups. Now be nice, or Mandy will have both our asses."

He smoothed out Mickey's shirt and tie before leading them out of the house, where Mickey could only glumly protest about the inevitable.

They had to make their way toward the Bronx, Mickey begrudgingly carrying their piece offering of a store bought cake. Ian walked sat blissfully beside him making jokes with that stupid, ugly—beautiful—mug of his. Mickey was less than excited for the experience. After a honeymoon full of relaxation and discovering things about Ian's body he'd never had the pleasure of knowing, the cumming untouched thing was especially good, he'd been so sated he forgot why he agreed to the damn thing in the first place. He was able to deter Mandy for a few months with claims of quarterlies and overtime. But she'd eventually gotten to Ian and it was a rap from there.

Mandy was waiting for them outside sporting the new blonde locks that she'd gotten as an act of freedom or some shit. She was also wearing the least slutty dress either of them had ever seen her wear complete with minimal cleavage and about half the makeup she usually wore.

Mickey snorted. "Bitch who are you trying to fool right now?"

She effectively stomped one of her high heels into Mickey's foot causing him to jump back in pain.

"Listen asshole, you do anything to ruin this, and I do mean _anything_ and I will kick your ass all the way back to south side. Understand?" She all but hissed.

He rolled his eyes. "They ain't even family."

"And they never will be if you don't give 'em chance to be Mickey." She said.

Ian squeezed his hand reassuringly with a smile, which was really all the reassurance Mickey needed. But they didn't need to know that.

"Fine. But if they hate gays I'm out of here." He murmured.

Mandy's sent Ian a thankful smile anyway.

Martha and George look like a classic born-and-bred old people from the Bronx. George had a gold chain around his neck and looked like he belonged in a wife beater instead of the slightly too tight dress shirt Martha no doubt made him wear. He was balding slightly on the top and looked shiny. Martha on the other hand looked shockingly like their mother, a fact that was very hard for Mickey to swallow. She had the same lop-sided smile and bright blue eyes. It hurt to look at her and he found himself wondering if George and Mandy felt the same way.

They were pulled into rough hugs and spouts of adoration instantly. Needless to say it was a little overwhelming.

"Mikhailo." Martha sighed lovingly squeezing his cheeks. "I haven't seen you since you were a little boy. Let me look at you."

"Mikhailo? I thought your first name was Michael?" Ian asked.

"Like fuck I was telling you my name was Mikhailo, that shit's embarrassing as hell, man. Terry had it changed after Ma anyway."

Mandy sent him a vicious glare as he easily broke two rules of the night right off the back. No cussing. No Terry. But George was muttering something just as obscene and it seemed to break the ice a little bit.

"Who's this handsome man?" Martha grinned at Ian.

He brightened under the praise reaching forward to offer his hand and a dazzling smile leaving Mickey to simultaneously snort and bite his lip at the same time. His husband was a dork, but he was lucky as all fuck to have him.

"I'm Ian. Ian Gallagher. I'm Mickey's—"

"You're the husband? Oh Mikhailo look at you?!" She grinned ignoring Ian's hand and pulling him in for a hug instead.

Mickey grimaced. "Did you tell them everything?"

Mandy shrugged. "Pretty much."

They were pulled into the house, a tiny brick building on the corner of a street, where the biggest room was probably the kitchen. The spread was pretty impressive and it didn't help that Martha seemed to absolutely adore Ian. And George was the same way with Mandy hugging her tight and patting her head in the most innocent way Mickey had seen a man beside himself or Ian touch her in years. So it was a little difficult to remain pessimistic, but he was managing. Until she pulled out the fucking goulash.

Ian was talking to him about some new fitness regime he wanted to start when the smell hit him.

"Is that—?"

"Mikhail you look way too skinny, we need to feed all of you. Look at this one here." Martha groaned poking at Ian's stomach.

She placed a huge serving bowl in the middle of the table and Mickey was immediately transported. He was five back home in New York watching his mom cook. She had Mandy on her hip and still managed to dance and laugh and smile. Mickey was hauled up on one of the chairs from their mismatched dining room watching the goulash bubble. She was letting him stir, said it was the most important job in the world, and he took it just as seriously.

"Look at you my little chef, just cooking away. You'll be making this by yourself in no time." She cheered tickling his neck until he giggled.

"Really Ma you think so?" He asked eyes wide and adoring.

She nodded. "Mikhailo you can be anything you want to be."

But suddenly she's not there anymore, and he's just sitting at a table missing his mother in a way he hasn't in years. And it all becomes a little much when it hurts for him to breathe. Because the love he got from his mother had once been the only thing he'd thought he would ever need.

Mandy and Ian watch as he pulls away from the table to stomp off. Ian sighed getting ready to go after him when Mandy placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I got this one."

She followed him slowly in her heels plopping down beside the older man with a cigarette perched between his lips and wrapping both of her arms around one of his.

"I miss her too." She whispered chin resting on Mickey's shoulder. "She was too pure for this world ya know? Too good, I think."

Mickey sniffled looking down. "Way too fucking pure. All she got was a bunch of assholes who never cared enough about her. It ain't fuckin fair."

"She knew Mickey. She knew you cared. Ma adored you."

"That's not the point. I know she adored me, I knew then too and I shit all over her. Always trying to be more like Iggy or Tony or Terry, couldn't stand to sit in the kitchen and watch you two cook. The only fucking person who cared and I never did shit. Just let her get hit and beaten until she ended up in a body bag. She didn't fucking deserve that Mandy!"

They both began to cry and Mandy reached out to hug him furiously. There's something about years of not knowing that makes someone become almost an entity, this unworldly being. And then you remember that they were human, that they loved and felt and bled. That was their mother, the woman that gave birth to them, and after years of being angry of the neglect that her death brought, Mickey realized just how bad she'd had it. It took him so long to stop thinking about himself and his own shit that when he was finally able to focus on her it just felt like he couldn't breathe. He felt so fucking bad.

"I just wanna tell her I'm sorry." He whispered, voice thick with tears.

"She knows. Trust me Mick, she knows."

They sat there for a while holding each other the way they couldn't have ever done when they were kids. Somewhere down the line Ian Gallagher had taught Mickey how to feel, had fixed the damage life had done to him, and now sitting there was a semi-functioning adult. He was someone capable of empathy and sadness and to let his sister hold him as they cried together. He was like a whole new person. But not really, maybe just whole new level of himself. An evolution. Because when it was all set done he held his sister's hand on the way back inside, and he didn't get defensive when he knew they could tell he had cried, and he kissed Ian in front of everyone because that's the love that he needed and he wasn't gonna put anyone's comfort above his own happiness anymore.

"Your mother, god rest her soul, was a beautiful light in our lives. And I refuse to believe that she went out. Because I see her light in both of you. And I know that my baby would be nothing but delighted to see how wonderful you two are, you hear me?" Martha demanded.

They nodded quickly.

"Good now eat some goddamn goulash."

The problem was that they were really sweet fucking people. Mandy was attached to both of them at the hip and Ian was just as bad. Martha couldn't go two minutes without complimenting him on something. His freckles. His hair. His "million dollar smile". It was disgusting. But Mickey kind of liked it.

"So how did you two kids meet?" George asked.

Ian smiled lovingly at the man beside him quickly reaching to intertwine their fingers.

"I was a pretty outgoing five year old who was tired of walking behind my older brother's shadow like some pathetic puppy, so I decided to walk behind the grumpy neighbor next door instead."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "He's dramatic and annoying. We moved to Chicago and he wouldn't leave me alone so I let him show me where the park was cause I was bored. He's been annoying me ever since."

"Awww babe, you make our story sound so romantic." Ian grinned.

Mickey was in the middle of swatting at him when Martha and George gave a little gasp.

"You two been together that long?" Martha asked.

Mickey shrugged. "There were a couple instances. Some juvie, a couple insane parent breakdowns, and a fight here or there, but for the most part this is it."

George seemed to nod and accept this and move on with his life, but of course Martha did not. Martha could not.

She paused. "One of you must have a very delightful penis."

Forks and spoons clinked, Mandy giggling as Mickey muttered something to Jesus and Ian's cheeks burned bright like his hair.

"Martha you can't just ask a man about his penis." George said in a monotone as if they'd had that conversation before.

"I didn't ask them anything! I was simply making an educated guess based on what they told me."

It had never been more evident that she was related to their mother. They were exactly alike.

That night was the beginning of a new chapter for the Milkovich/ Milkovich-Gallagher's or whatever the fuck their actual group name was. Mickey and Mandy opened themselves up to someone who wanted to be family for maybe the first time in their lives besides Ian and the results weren't disastrous. In fact when they left it was with foil covered leftovers and lipstick stains on their cheeks. They were hugged and prodded and adored. And for Ian it was just the best thing in the world to see these two amazing people finally get the love they deserved from someone else for a change. He loved seeing other people see what he saw: that Mickey and Mandy were not only worthy of love, but insistent of it.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"Mickey your grandmother is the most beautiful creature on the planet. She is doing your laundry, baking a pie, and yelling at your grandfather all at once. I think she might be superwoman."

Mickey snorted pressing the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he continued to stuff things into his bag.

"I'm glad you're having so much fun with a woman in her sixties. I'll be home in forty, if you even care."

"Oh I care. We're having lamb and potatoes and those little baby carrots you only see in restaurants? And she's gonna let me open the wine. I'm so excited, you have no idea." His husband squealed.

"If I come home to you knitting I swear I'm getting a divorce."

"It's crochet actually. Hurry Mick, the lamb will be done soon."

"Of course it is."

Mickey hung up slinging his work bag over his shoulder and locking up for the night. He was stopped by a couple of the guys from his team heading home with hard hats and crackling laughs. His relationship with his team was pretty impersonal, mostly due to him keeping it that way, and they tried to fix this any chance they got.

"Yo Milkovich, come have a beer with the peasants for a night huh?!" One of the guys, Tony with the Boston accent, called.

Mickey smirked. "Can't, got beer waiting for me at home. I expect every one of you here tomorrow and not visibly hung-over."

"Ah c'mon man cut us some slack. Have some fun for once."

"Maybe another night."

They didn't know that he was gay, didn't know what he went to at night, and he didn't really want that to change. It wasn't even about being out and proud; it was more of a simple they didn't ask so he didn't tell thing. Mickey was never one for friends. He didn't really see why that had to change.

So instead he went home where George and he sat on the couch drinking beer while the women—and Ian—finished dinner. Martha and George came over once, and now Mickey wasn't sure they would ever leave. But he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel nice to just have someone be there. Not that he'd ever say that out loud of course.

"Mick, come with me I wanna show you the new pull-up bar I got at work today." Ian smiled fingers tugging on his.

He let himself be dragged to the bathroom just so that ginger tree could manhandle him against the door and have his way with him. The best decisions are made in bathrooms, obviously.

"I missed you." He whispered teeth grazing his bottom lip.

Mickey sighed. "You haven't pulled me into a bathroom to make-out since we were kids."

"I know. That's bad, I wanna change that. Let's change that."

And change it they did.

Ian was a territorial fucker, so it was no surprise that by the time the two sat down for dinner looking guilty as all fuck, that he was sporting a massive hickey at the base of his neck for all to see.

" _Mikhailo_ at least have the decency to cover up your love bites at the kitchen table." Mandy snorted rudely.

He turned a glare on her before searching his neck for the offending mark as his family began to laugh at him. Ian at least had the courtesy to look sheepish.

It was weird to have family dinners. Their mother had always cooked back in New York, but after moving to Chicago it began to get harder to get the entire family together. It was weird to just be surrounded by others. Mickey had grown quite used to just being with Ian, but Martha and George really seemed to melt into his life. Their family grew.

"You know what this place is missing?" Martha asked.

"What?"

"Babies."

Mickey immediately started to choke on a too big piece of lamb causing a huge scene. Ian rolled his eyes at his over-dramatic husband.

Martha giggled. "George felt the same way you did. Tell him Georgie."

"Hated kids. Then I had one, and I didn't hate it so much." He shrugged. "They're kinda cute."

Mickey cleared his throat. "Me and Gallagher, we uh—we don't want kids. We're good."

Martha and Mandy seemed to simultaneously look back and forth between the two, though Mandy's face was a lot more insidious. Mickey's cheeks were warm and Ian seemed like he was trying to memorize his carrots. The tension built steadily as they each tried to ignore the situation. Thankfully, for once, Martha let it go. Now if only Ian would do the same thing.

It's late at night, after everyone has left and the dishes have been washed in awkward silence. Mickey can feel Ian's emotions coming off of him in waves as he undresses for bed. Their eyes don't meet, no words are said, and no sex is had. It's just quiet.

Mickey flipped the light off immersing them in darkness. It felt cold without Ian wrapped around him. As he got older he hated fighting with Ian more and more. He liked the dumb redhead too much. With a stubborn groan he rolled over forcefully shoving his way into Ian's space using only his head. Ian laughed softly, because no matter what that was absolutely adorable.

"What are you a cat now?"

Mickey scowled. "Just hold me dammit."

It surprised him a little when Ian actually did, but soon after that he was talking, and that was never surprising.

"You don't wanna have kids."

"'Course I don't, Ian. I've never wanted kids. Aren't we fucked up enough without dragging a defenseless spawn into it?"

Ian swallowed. "It could be like me."

"What could?"

"The baby. It could be fucked up like me, if we used my DNA. It'd be fucked up and crazy just like me; is that why?"

Mickey peered up at sad, green eyes and sighed because of course that's where Ian would take it.

"Christ, Ian." He whispered taking the younger man's face into his hands. "If anything I'm more worried what emotional crippling damage could be done to a kid with me as a father. You'd be great; I know you would, you were five carrying Debbie on your back and Carl in your arms. There's no telling what the kid could or couldn't have—it's just not what I want. I just want you."

Ian whined softly, eyes closed. "You didn't want to get married either, and that wasn't so bad."

"No, Freckles, it wasn't. But I don't think putting a ring on someone already locked down is the same as raising another human being, do you?"

"It could be fun Mick."

"Is that supposed to be convincing? It could be fun, so let's adopt and raise a kid till he's eighteen and begging us for money until we die."

He sighed. "You're so pessimistic."

"I'm tired, jackass. Can we sleep now?"

"Yea, whatever."

Which Mickey had learned was code word for "this isn't over". Of course.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

"He's just really infuriating sometimes." Ian huffed pushing steadily at the bar to complete another bench press. "I mean we both come from broken homes and he works so hard to not let that get to him that he ends up completely letting it get to him."

"Understandable. You can't change how someone is though, man."

"Ugh, I don't wanna change him I just—I just want him to be realistic! Sometimes I feel like he still thinks we're seventeen and nineteen and we're not. We're adults. Adults have kids. They build families, they—they build lives."

Ian finished his reps before grabbing water and a towel. Bryan, one of his co-workers and a really nice guy who put up with Ian's ramblings, settled in front of him on the bench. He wasn't gay, but he was one of the only married trainers there, so they seemed to get a long pretty well.

"You know just because you're married and you two have been together forever, doesn't mean that you're middle-aged and about to retire. Me and Ashley have been married going on five years and guess what? We still go out; we still have friends and lives outside of each other. She goes out with her friends, I go out with mine. You'd be surprise how healthy distance is."

Ian sighed. "Mickey doesn't like people. He likes to snuggle and complain about the world. Mickey's been middle-aged since he was thirteen."

"Well try it. Make him go out for a night, without you, and you do the same. It might work." Bryan shrugged.

Unfortunately he didn't really have any other ideas.

"Yea, alright. I guess I could give it a shot."

"That's the spirit. Now go get cleaned up, I got a client in fifteen."

Ian thought about it the rest of the day. He had a lot of excess energy that felt like it was boiling inside of him, so despite having eight clients that day he decided to stick around later than usual and work out again. Mickey had made him promise not to overdo himself when he decided to become a trainer and at the end of the day he thought maybe he had anyway. His thighs were burning a little too much for comfort and he was still sweating even on his way home after his shower, the conversation with Bryan resting heavily on his mind. Maybe it would be good for them, both of them. They'd never really had any friends but each other anyway. Distance… maybe it could be good after all.

He thought about it as he walked home, and even on the way up the stairs. He was thinking of texting to Bryan to hang out when he realized that there was something in front of his door, that there was someone in front of his door.                    

"Ian!"

He stopped.

"Monica?"

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mickey came home with takeout and beer. It'd taken him a while to get used to drinking alcohol after those last couple of years. He'd learned the amount of calories in a can, and sometimes it was still difficult to swallow, but he worked endlessly at giving himself a break every now and again, and this was one of those nights. When he got to their loft he was met with the sounds of music blasting through the sliding metal door. It was so loud he could make out the words, which had him walking inside looking for the redhead who had apparently lost his hearing.

What he was met with was a startling scene and a crazy hit of déjà vu. Ian was on his knees in their kitchen scrubbing compulsively at a spotless floor. His teeth and jaw were clenched, eyes wet as his fingers moved at a blurring speed. Mickey quickly set the food down and yanked at the cord connecting Ian's phone to the stereo before meeting his husband on his knees.

"Hey, hey Ian, what's going on?" He murmured softly hands reaching out to stop the incessant scrubbing.

Ian grunted. "I gotta clean Mick."

"Take a break for a little while, alright? Come eat dinner with me."

Something about Mickey's voice must've been terrified enough to get Ian to snap out of his daze and truly see him for the first time. Ian let himself be pulled from the floor and over to the couch. They ate in silence except for the sound of chewing and forks in Chinese food containers. Mickey let Ian have that time to himself, to think and to rationalize, because as soon as the food was gone he was shoving everything away and climbing into Ian's lap with a worried look on his face.

"The fuck's up?" He whispered.

Ian swallowed. "My Mo—Monica came to see me today."

"What? She was _here_?!"

He nodded. "Was waiting at the door when I got home."

"Well how the hell did she know how to find you? How did she know you were here?!"

"Apparently Fiona left one of my post cards from the honeymoon lying around. Frank got his hands on it, and the rest is history."

Ian's voice came out monotone and dead, something that Mickey didn't take likely to. Monica had always been a sore subject, had always been something that could make him fly apart. He had to tread carefully to keep Ian from cracking.

"What'd she want?"

He shrugged. "To catch up supposedly? I told her I didn't wanna see her and she said she'd be in town for a little while, wants to see me."

Mickey's fingers were in his hair rubbing softly at the scalp. It was getting time for another haircut probably and the stimulation there felt good. All the anxiety that came with Monica didn't feel like such a burden when Mickey was there, and he always had been, always was. Ian pressed their foreheads together releasing a sharp breath that he felt like he'd been holding since Monica had showed up. She brought up too many memories, too many old thoughts of what his disorder meant, of what he was. It made him feel like he wasn't grounded, like he was floating off into space, but Mickey was his anchor that kept him on the ground.

"It's okay; I'm here." Mickey soothed.

"I'm scared Mick." He admitted quietly.

"That's alright; we'll get through this. You take your meds yet?"

He shook his head slowly watching as Mickey got up and disappeared into the bathroom, before coming back out with the pill bottles. Mickey helped him take them and held his hands through the tremors. And then when it was over, he helped him out of his clothes and into bed where the warmth from his arms was so much better than the warmth of the covers. Ian was able to forget for a while, was able to relax for a while.

They got pizza delivered and watched a movie on Netflix. Mickey didn't ask any more questions and eventually Monica was a soft hum in the back of his brain, prevalent but ignorable. At least for now.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

There was an incessant pounding on the door that was driving Mickey up the fucking wall. He hated getting out of bed before he had to. Usually he'd use his weapon of cold feet pressed into Ian's legs to get him to go see who it was. But after the events of the night before, and the adorable look on the bastard's face as he slept was enough to pull him groaning out of the bed and towards the door.

"Who the fuck is it?" He groaned twisting at the knob.

And there she was: hair blonde and stringy and eyes so bright that he knew that's where Ian had to get it from. Her smile was wild and blazing and way too familiar. It was almost unnerving to look at her and know all the pain and strife she caused, but to see the beautiful features he'd fallen in love with in another form. It took him a second to get angry.

"The fuck do you think you're doing here?" He hissed.

She just smiled brightly. "Mickey Milkovich?! You two are still together? That's so sweet! I remember when Ian would rant and rave about you for hours. He was so smitten with you, I'm glad it worked out."

"Uh huh…"

He snorted rudely beginning to slam the door in the bitch's face when her arms shot out and stop it. Weird fucking lanky Gallaghers with their sudden super-human strength.

"Is Ian here?" she gasped excitedly. "He wasn't feeling well when I was here earlier. I wanted to make him some soup. I brought my own ingredients."

She held up a couple of bags filled to the brims with vegetables and other shit. Mickey knew if Ian saw it he'd cave and let her come in, so he had to defuse the situation before he woke up. Ian was too good and pure; he loved too openly, forgave too easy, and forgot too quickly. Mickey loved all of these things about Ian, thought they were absolutely perfect on him, but he also recognized that these things could sometimes get him in trouble. Mickey was always ready to protect Ian from the things that made him so great.

"Where'd you get the money for that huh? You steal it from some guy you lured away for money? Oh or was it like that time when Ian was six and you had him stand outside a bar for two hours while you went to score some money 'playing pool'? He's not sick; he just doesn't wanna fucking see you." He spat harshly.

Her face crumpled a lot like Ian's did. Sad eyes and pouty lips that made you cringe for ever saying a negative thing to her. But he stood his ground. Because Ian wasn't her, and he knew that, had sung that like a lullaby in his husband's ear while he sobbed through med changes. It was easy to see that Ian got the good, but he knew that he hadn't inherited the bad no matter what anyone said.

"I—I just wanna see my boy, Mickey. I deserve that. I'm okay now, I'm—I'm ready to be in his life now."  She promised.

"He's not your boy anymore. You don't get to throw someone away and pick 'em back up when you're ready like they're some fucking toy. He's a human being. He needed you twenty fucking years ago. Not now. And **you** missed out, you hear me? He's fucking great. He's amazing and it's has absolutely nothing to do with you or your fucked up bullshit. You don't get any part of him."

His rant brought tears to her eyes, brought an unsteady heartbeat to his chest, and another Gallagher from their bedroom.

"Mick, it's okay I got it." Ian said softly.

Mickey quickly shook his head. "Come on, you know that's not a good idea. Ian, your health comes first."

"I said, I got it." He stated more firmly.

Mickey sighed ultimately giving in with the knowledge that if anything went wrong he'd be there to pick up the pieces. Squeezing his arm warmly, Mickey left the room so that it was just Ian facing one of the scariest things of his past. His own mother.

"Hey ma."

"My sweet baby." She cooed smiling with wet eyes. "What's wrong? Why'd he say your health comes first?"

"I got bipolar." He laughed sadly. "Guess it's genetic."

"Oh sweetie it isn't. There's not a single thing wrong with this beautiful head."

She let her fingers engulf his cheeks, and Ian shuttered as his eyes closed feeling the warmth of a touch he'd rarely gotten as a child. Something he'd been so sure for such a long part of his life that he needed to feel whole.

"You're so gorgeous." She whispered breathily. "No wonder he wants to protect you, look at you; look at what I made with you. You're beautiful, baby."

His fingers wrapped around her arms, which still cradled his face and suddenly their both crying during this reunion neither of them ever expected to have. And it hurts, it hurts like a bitch, but only because it feels so fucking good.

"I missed you, Ian."

He sniffled. "I missed you too, Mom."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

She hugs him, that warmth from before now radiating throughout his entire being. He leans into it against his better judgment letting his mother's touch heal the broken parts that she, herself, has caused. He knew it was bad, knew that it wouldn't help him in the long run. But that was something he was willing to give up. Something he'd unfortunately give up any day she decided he was good enough, because that was his mom and he loved her with all of his heart. Even if she didn't.

"I wanna make you soup." She sniffled wiping the tears from his face with shaky fingers.

He laughed. "I don't think Mick would like that too much."

"Well fuck him."

"I do, often actually Ma. I just . . . I don't think it's a good idea."

She giggled a smile blossoming on her face. "Please?"

He was hopeless to her; it was like a trance really.

"Fine. Go to the kitchen; I'll try to stop Mickey from getting the baseball bat."

Mickey knew the second that asshole poked his head in the door that something was off. He was too shy, too hesitant and soft. He still had his pajama pants on, t-shirt missing and hair rumpled. His eyes were red and he kept licking his lips in nervousness. It was quite annoying. (And cute)

"She gone?"

"If by gone you mean in the kitchen cutting up vegetables, then yes."

Mickey's eyes widened. "You mean to tell me one of the most traumatic instances of your life is this bitch slitting her wrists with a butcher knife on thanksgiving  and you left her alone in our kitchen where we keep the knives?!"

Ian sighed, seeming to deflate. "I don't wanna fight Mick. I really don't.  I just . . . can't turn her away. I'm fucked up okay? But I could use you out there. And it would mean the world to me if you'd just come keep us company."

He looked tired and scared and maybe a little confused. It was very similar to how he'd look growing up every time Monica would show up to snatch the rug right from under him. He knew that he wouldn't leave Ian to deal with all by himself. Mickey never had, and that wasn't about to change.

He reached to cradle his cheek softly with a sigh. "I'm gonna kick your ass when she leaves, come on."

Ian smiled leaning in to press a kiss to Mickey's lip, soft and slow.

"Thanks. I love you."

Mickey snorted. "I know."

They went out to the kitchen where Monica was cheerily chopping vegetables and adding them to a pot. When she spotted the two men holding hands on their way down and her eyes and face brightened.

"Sit, sit. Let me take care of you." She smiled.

"That would've been helpful fifteen years ago." Mickey snorted, not quietly enough, under his breath.

Ian glared at him sending a swift kick to his knee that resulted in mutual glares and an awkward silence.

"So uh, how long are you in town for?" Ian asked.

Monica's smile brightened unnaturally. "Oh you know, a few weeks?"

"Oh, yea, that should be long enough for you to get whatever it is you want from Ian, steal some cash, and leave him emotionally crippled in your wake."

"Mickey!"

"I'm sorry but you can't honestly believe this is gonna end any differently than it had your entire life!" He exploded. "If Terry walked through that door and promised he'd never fag bash us again you'd take that with a grain of fucking salt and you know it."

"This is—is different."

"How? It's just another type of abuse. She abuses you and takes advantage of you. You have to see that. It's just another fucked up parent from the South side swinging through to make life hell. There. Is. No. Difference."

Ian and Monica sat there stunned as Mickey stormed out of the kitchen and up to their bedroom stomping the entire way with steps like a thunderous crack.

How dare that asshole! All he wanted was to protect him, to keep history from repeating itself, again.

Mickey paced back and forth for a while. He smoked a cigarette out of spite. He got angry that he was now trapped in their bedroom because of his stupid ass husband, so he smoked some more. Then he got so angry that he took a nap. Redheaded bastard.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Ian closed the door to their home quietly, his body drooping against it tiredly. The entire place was quiet, all of Monica's bursting energy gone. What was left was another unfinished project, just like old times. Vegetables half cut and left to rot. A pot turned cold. The déjà vu was deep. The pads of his fingers touched his cheeks where the tears had dried and her kisses had faded. He felt cold without her. But, it wasn't her warmth that he craved anymore. So, he grabbed the bottle of whiskey out of the cabinet and left the mess downstairs to deal with another time.

Mickey sleeping really was an adorable sight for sore eyes. All his frown lines smoothed out and his lips were pouty and parted. It made Ian feel good to know that all that was his.

He crawled slowly into bed curling up next to Mickey. He ran his fingers along his cheek instead thinking of all the parts of him that he loved and cherished. Even the parts that drove him mad sometimes. When those eyes blinked slowly open he couldn't imagine his world ever being brighter. Mickey was truly the light of his life.

"What—What happened? Where's Monica?"

"I took her to the bus station. Bought her a ticket, gave her some money. Asked her to never come back unless she'd decided to take her meds for good. So, never." He laughed dryly.

Ian breathed deeply already unscrewing the cap and taking a gulp of the dark liquid. Mickey looked on, eyes wide with worry. Ian simply moved closer.

"I'm gonna take a couple more sips of this and get piss drunk. And then I'm gonna man up and not cry over my mommy issues. I know I've asked a lot today but do you think you could just . . . just hold me through that?"

And he looked at Mickey as if he had a choice. Like it would be perfectly acceptable to say no. Like Mickey could ever tell him no.

"Get over here." Mickey sighed affectionately tugging the bigger man into his arms.

They moved deeper into the covers arms and shoulders touching as they tried to forget the past. That day it was emphasized for them just how importantly family could be. And even when the one delegated to you shits on everything you are there's always the ability to go out and make one of your own. And they had. And they were damn happy their choices.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just start out with saying I really love this fandom. I love Ian and I fucking adore Mickey and i truly have such a special place in my heart for everything they've gone through and everything they've become. The bullshit that happens in canon is nothing but just that: bullshit. I don't wanna acknowledge it, because i truly wanna hold on to this bubble as long as I can. It hurts me to think that people will leave or just get over them (even though we all know this is inevitable in some shape or form) and I don't wanna be like that. I'm still relatively new this fandom. I've still got ideas, stories to create for these beautiful babies and they deserve it. They deserve for their story to be told in fascinating alternative lights. I don't wanna give in to the world these writer's have destroyed. And so for now I will not. This chapter is so important to me because it represents some really intricate ideas that said writers never touch on. Mickey's relationship with his mother. His relationship with family outside of the Milkovichs. When is it okay to let someone in ya know? And Ian and Monica, it feels like a tale as old as time, but I wanted to give her a send off and show Ian's constant evolution as someone with mental illness and just as a human. I really hope i did that justice. 
> 
> As always comments and kudos are so much appreciated and i would really love to keep the conversation going about these two, because i truly feel that there is so much left to discuss. I really hope some of you feel the same :)
> 
> Talk to me:   
> zankivich.tumblr.com


	23. Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is 28. Mickey is turning 30. When it comes time to welcome in a new era for the couple, they find themselves still dealing with problems of the past. The good news is they have each other to lean on through it all.

Ian is twenty-eight when the meds completely give out on him. He's at work one day with a client and runs three miles with him. Then he shows the client out and runs five more. Things are great at first, of course they are. He gets more done, feels more alive and electric. He learns how to cook Mickey's favorite dish from Martha forming this grandiose plan for their anniversary/Mickey's birthday. He redecorates the bedroom doing so much laundry that there's never so much as a dirty sock on the floor. It doesn't get out of hand until it does, and he doesn't feel like anything's actually wrong because nothing of this caliber has happened to him yet. He just feels happy, making everything that much worse.

"I always thought I wanted to keep Mickey fit and healthy, but I think you've got the right idea. You fatten them up so they can't run away from you." Ian smirked as he and Martha moved around the kitchen.

She laughed, loud and boisterous. "Oh I love having you around, my dear!"

They cook for hours practicing new recipes and old ones until Ian's got a towering stack of tuber ware in his arms on his way out to the car. He'd spent his day after work with Martha because Mickey was out having a little experience of his own.

It'd taken months to convince Mickey to go out and find himself some friends. Though his co-worker had made it seem simple, he'd negated one small detail which was that Mickey Milkovich-Gallagher was the most stubborn asshole of all time. It took some major arguing, a little lock jaw, and a couple flat out screaming matches to get Mickey to go out with the guys from work, but alas he'd convinced him and Mickey was left to step out of him comfort zone.

It was a ratty bar not to dissimilar from the Alibi. They had beer and peanuts and sticky countertops, leaving Mickey to feel a little more at ease. He didn't like the idea of hanging out with his men after work. It left too many open holes. For him to learn about them. For them to learn about him. He felt as though he was good at his job because he kept the distance. And his dumbass husband was insistent on ruining that fucking flow.

"So Milkovich, what made you decide to join the scum for a night?" Tony asked.

He chugged gratefully at his beer. "I'm here by force. Not allowed to go home until I've had a fresh dose of actual human interaction."

The men snorted.

"Ol' wife the boss of you too?" Another guy, Eddie asked.

Mickey's head snapped towards him, automatically on the defensive.

"'Scuse me?"

The guy raised an eyebrow nodding towards Mickey's hand that was grasping a beer promptly displaying his wedding ring. _Deep breaths, Jackass. Here we go._

"Oh. Yea not a wife, man. Jackass of a husband nags just as much though."

Despite his true dedication to forgetting all the pain of his life and living openly and proudly, Mickey was still very much a recluse by nature. His entire body tightened at the news of sharing that particular piece of information. And maybe it was the notion that no matter how liberal the world got, some people still hated gays, or just the idea of sharing information at all, or even a combination of the two. All he knew was that his fingers grew snug around his beer and he didn't breathe for a second waiting for the reaction of the crew. He needed their respect, and there was still very much a part of him that believed they might not respect him for being what he was.

"Goddammit!"

Mickey flinched as Eddie slammed his beer down and reached into his jeans. Just as that fight or flight instinct was about to kick in, a twenty dollar beer emerged from his pocket instead of a shiv and another one of his men cried out in joy leaving him utterly confused.

"Romero bet you were gay, but I was holding out for those knuckle tats. That'll teach me to judge a book by its cover huh?" He snorted.

And just like that it was as if everything melted and there wasn't any pressure to be any kind of way. They hung out at the bar and complained about their wives, and husbands respectively, and Mickey forgot how good it felt to drink shitty beer and scam people out of money in pool. It was fun and familiar and he didn't really feel bad for being without Ian, like he thought he would. It was good. Weird, but good.

"Now that I've kicked every one of your asses, I think it's time for me to head home.  And I expect zero call offs in the morning!" Mickey called placing his empty beer on the counter.

A chorus of "Ah c'mon!"s rang throughout the bar, but Mickey just smirked sending them a salute and heading back to his car.

Ian was in the kitchen cooking when Mickey got home. At eleven o'clock at night. Even with a couple of shitty beers in his system, the peculiarity of this did not go unnoticed to him.

"You're home! How was it? Tell me everything." The redhead grinned kissing Mickey's cheek and steering him towards a chair.

"We uh drank and played pool. I won fifty bucks. Some other guy Romero won twenty for betting that I was gay, anyway. All in all I didn't wanna kill myself the entire time."

"See? I told you, you'd have fun! It's good for us to get out, do things with other people sometimes."

The brightness in his tone was a little much for it almost being midnight and Mickey couldn't help but notice how quickly Ian was moving around the room to cook when there was a plethora of tuber ware in the refrigerator. He caught him at one of his turns, fingers snatching his waist up to get him to stop moving so that the taller man settled between his legs.

"You okay?" He asked eyeing his husband suspiciously.

Ian nodded enthusiastically. "Yea. I'm fine."

"Really? Cause you seem a little jittery. You take your meds already?"

"Yes, Mickey. Of course I did, Mickey." He replied in a monotone. "I'm just happy you had fun alright? I wanted you to have a good time."

"Okay. Just checking."

Ian leaned in smiling at that face that just got better with age. How could he be anything but perfect when Mickey was around? He kissed him quickly launching himself into the smaller man's lap and completely ending any and all conversation. Despite the pots and pans bubbling away on the stove they were very caught up in each other. Mostly Ian. Ian always got caught up in Mickey until Mickey was doing the same and then everything was just fucked.

"Bed. Now." Ian huffed sliding from Mickey's lap.

"W—What about dinner?" 

Ian ran for the stove flipping knobs and pushing their food away.

"Now Mickey!"

Needless to say he went.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"I want to celebrate our anniversary a little early this year."

Mickey chuckled. "It's the middle of April Ian, our anniversary is almost eight months away."

"I know, I know, but technically, you know, now that we're married and all, our anniversary could really be from when we got married. And since we got married in the second week of May and your birthday is right at the end of April I was just thinking we could do something . . . special."

"What kind of special?"

Ian didn't meet his eyes, suspicious detail number one, and he kept playing with his fork and bouncing his knee, suspicious detail number two.

"Well you are turning thirty, and so I thought maybe we could do something. I'll make you dinner and we could go out to the city. See a play. And . . ."

"And?"

"And you could let me throw you a party."

Whoop there it is.

"Oh for the love of god Ian." Mickey grumbled moving to put his dishes in the sink. "I hate parties."

"I know you do Mick, but you're thirty now. That's cause for a little celebration don't you think?"

"No. No I do not."

Ian groaned moving away from the kitchen table himself so he could trap Mickey against the kitchen sink.

"It doesn't have to suck. I could get you weed. And beer. And fucking pizza bagels. Maybe some coke for Christ's sake. It could be like we used to party ya know?" He murmured softly. "And then when it's all set and done we can kick everyone out on their asses and I could give your real present."

Mickey couldn't help but grin up at the redhead. "Yea and what would that be Freckles?"

"Me."

He peppered soft kisses along Mickey's throat, a real low blow in the grand scheme of things.  Mickey was hopeless when it came to him.

"Goddammit, fine. I want some good shit though. Don't cheap out on me."

"I wouldn't dream of it." He beamed.

And just like that Ian dove head first into party planning. In-between work, cooking with Martha, occasional hang outs with Mandy, and constant skype calls with his family Ian worked endlessly to create the world's most amazing party. Kev was flying in for a much needed vacation, and to allow Vee some time alone with the girls. He was kind of the only person from Ian's family that didn't completely irritate him besides Debbie and she was off at college finishing up her degree at Michigan. Everything felt like it was coming at him full force, but none of it felt like it was getting on top of him. He could handle anything thrown at him and that feeling was absolutely amazing. He didn't even make that connection.

"Are you sure you wanna come in? I mean, straight guys usually have a problem with the butt stuff." Ian smirked.

He, and Bryan, the co-worker that was married and understood him to an extent were standing side by side in front of a massive sex shop. It was somewhat discreet as discreet as a place called the Pleasure Chest could be, but after a little digging Ian was pretty sure they had what he needed and that was all that mattered. With Mickey working late and nowhere else to be Bryan had somehow offered to tag along, which was more than a little surprising to Ian.

"Nah man, love is love. Besides Ashley has a thing for paddles, and her birthday's coming up in a few months too."

"Huh. Spankings?"

He nodded with a grin. "Sometimes I can't sit down for days. Makes training really interesting."

And with that he entered the store ahead of Ian, leaving him jaw slacked. It was a little messed up to just assume that the woman would be the one getting spanked, but the more surprising aspect was how willingly Bryan offered up the information. Few people were as comfortable with sex as Ian was, he thought it had something to do with the whole stripper phase, but he'd met someone else who wasn't timid either and it actually felt good to have that person to go to.

"Good evening gentlemen, can I help you?" A petite woman with strawberry blonde locks and an innocent smile greeted them.

Ian couldn't help but think of the whole judging a book by its cover thing and how utterly stupid that was.

"Uh yea. I read some reviews on a few of your couples packages and was wondering if you had anything specifically tailored to . . . well assholes." He replied frankly.

She nodded. "Of course, of course. Follow me, I think we have a couple of things that might interest you."

She lead them past a couple elegantly placed walls to a pretty expansive area lined with cases of couple packages. It was right past the butt plus letting you know, "hey if you're gay this might be for you". She reached for a key attacked to a bracelet on her wrist and swiftly opened the case pulling out a black shiny box to show Ian.

"This is our deluxe 'that's the spot' kit. It's relatively new but all the regulars are raving about it. It comes with our staple Lelo Loki prostate massager that features six settings and is guaranteed to get your partner weeping. There's our antibacterial spray, some warming lubricant and regular anal lubricate to prove easy penetration. Our pleasure tape, which is a staple here as well."

"Wait w—what's a uh pleasure tape?" He interrupted feeling a little uneducated in sex at that point.

"Oh it's just a non-sticky bondage tape. It allows you to tie up your partner as little or as much as you want without causing them unnecessary harm such as sticking to hair or hurting during removal." She explained with a friendly smile.

"Oh. I don't know if he'd be into that."

"Most couples who haven't experimented much with that feel the same way. I don't know the dynamics of your relationship, obviously, but it can definitely be fun just to simply restrain your partner during sex. You two can take it as deep or shallow as you want to."

Her eyes went back and forth from Ian to Bryan a few times before either of them got what she was insinuating. They were sure that them both having wedding rings on and showing up at a sex shop to look for couples kits together didn't help once so ever. This was the one time were a no-homo was actually required.

"Oh—Oh! No. I'm just a fellow heterosexual friend helping a homosexual friend appease to his husband's asshole. I'm actually looking for my wife after this." Bryan explained. "He's an ass man and I'm flat as a pancake."

The woman helping them gasped. "I shouldn't have assumed. I'm so sorry."

Ian snorted. "That's perfectly fine. He's an unusual one. But uh as great as all of that sounds I was looking for something just a smidge more . . . interactive? Like for both of us. My husband he's turning thirty, and I just wanna show him there's more out there."

She nodded seeming to think this through before letting another shrill gasp emit from her lips. "I have just the thing for you."

And just like that she was gone heels clicking excitingly against the ground.

"This is our egg/anal plug. It comes with a remote control for you or your husband to use. I suggest using it during dinner or perhaps a birthday party? It's a wonderful way to spice things up. I've personally introduced a couple to this product and it became the sole reason they came back to us."

It was a more than interesting idea. Watching Mickey walk around all night and knowing that any minute, any second he could make his entire world shake and throb. He wanted to show him there was so much more for them to do. What better way was there?

"I'll take it. All of it!"

*                                                                                                             *                                                             *

 

"Jesus Christ Ian how much did you spend?" Mandy snorted peering at the bed which was covered in sex toys.

Ian shrugged. "A little over three hundred. But he'll love it; I know he will. I just need your help wrapping. You know how crappy I am at it."

"Ugh hand me the fucking tape."

Everything had fallen into place. Ian had spent hours planning and ordering and getting everything ready for Mickey. He'd gotten a weed dealer and found coke and made massive mistakes at the grocery store with Martha. It was beautiful and wonderful and he'd spent way too much money without that thought even occurring to him. It didn't matter though. He felt good. And he knew Mickey would love it. So, he didn't focus on literally anything else. In hind sight this was probably a bit of a warning sign.

"When's this shit show starting by the way?" Mickey mumbled as he stepped out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel.

Ian stared on hungrily at his husband. "Starts at eight. Hopefully won't finish until tomorrow."

Mickey snorted completely unaware of the sex fiend sneaking up behind him. Ian caught one of the rivets of water dripping down his back and captured it with his tongue. Warm hands snaked around his waist and it quickly began to heat up between them.

"I wanna give you one of your presents before everybody gets here." He whispered in between kisses and bites. "If that's okay?"

Mickey groaned leaning back against the feeling. "Okay."

He led him to the bed pulling at the towel until his ass came into light. Mickey bit his lip to hide a moan as Ian ran his hands over the globes bending slightly to pressing a kiss there.

He watched, heart beating faster by the second as Ian pulled a perfectly wrapped box from underneath their bed and handed it to him.

"I gotta admit I wasn't expecting anything to actually come wrapped." Mickey smirked.

He licked his lips. "Just open it."

"Alright, alright calm your horses Freckles."

He tore at the paper peering at the box in what could only be described as uncomfortable confusion.

"It's uh—I really just—what the fuck is it?"

Ian laughed at that, an incredulous shrill sound ripping from his lips easily. His eyes widened and he held his stomach like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Mickey raised an eyebrow about to lay into his husband for being a smartass, when he finally calmed down enough to speak.

"It's a vibrating egg. You put it in this little vase and use it as a butt plug. With the plug comes the remote. I thought maybe you could wear it, thought it could be—ya know fun? Or if you don't feel comfortable I could wear it."

Mickey's eyes widened slightly at that. "You'd do that? I mean you like to be in control."

"I know, but I also like bringing you pleasure. And I think this might do that, either way. It's all up to you. I just wanna make you happy." He purred.

It was easy for Mickey to feel over whelmed at Ian's declaration. He was always hesitant with that stuff, before usually diving straight into it and loving every second. His favorite part was just how much Ian loved to see him happy, and how much he loved reciprocating that feeling. They got off on that alone. The notion of doing it a new and slightly taboo way was especially enticing.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

He nodded. "Yea. I uh—I wanna wear it. Want you to surprise me."

Ian's face lit up at that and before either of them knew what was happening he was flipping him over and licking him open like no tomorrow. With his body fresh and relaxed straight from the shower, having Ian eat him out was the best birthday gift Mickey could've asked for. It was relentless: dragging teeth, stiff tongue, and blunt finger nails dragging over his skin. Mickey's fingers dug into Ian's hair wantonly tugging Ian deeper between his cheeks.

It was great to watch Mickey come undone. For all the feelings he kept hidden away inside, when they were in bed he let go, let Ian see all the parts of him that were locked up for so long. He moaned deep and loud body thrumming from the pleasure and Ian hadn't even put the plug in yet. Between his tongue, lubed up fingers, and rough presses against his perineum Mickey was already on the cusp of falling apart. When he pulled away to grab the new toy Mickey's legs jolted from the sudden lack of penetration.

"Fuck—fuck Ian please!"

"Shhh baby I got you." He murmured covering the toy with the condom and lubing it up. "I got you."

The steady pressing of the plug tore a groan deep from within Mickey's chest that turned Ian on like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"Jesus. You're fucking ass Mick." Ian grunted reaching into his pants to relieve some of the pressure.

And then it was both of them panting as Ian brought himself to a quick and whiny climax all over his husband's back side, splatters of cum looking downright sinful on his pale skin. Ian huffed swiping his fingers through it and bringing the treat to Mickey's eager lips.

" _Fuck._ " He groaned as Mickey deep throated the fingers.

"Happy birthday to me huh?"

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

The party was in full swing. All of Mickey's "not friends but totally friends" aka co-workers were there, as was Mandy and the people from her bar that he could stand. Ian had invited a couple of people and of course Kev was there playing bartender. The music was thumping and people were already making complete and total assholes of themselves. Ian was in the midst of it as a very familiar feeling was coursing through his veins. That feeling of weightlessness. He knew he could do anything, be anything. His heart thumped harsh and fast in his chest as he rose higher by the minute. The beat of the music was rising through his feet and it brought on a sense of déjà vu that he couldn't quite place, so he just kept moving.

Mickey through the coke, weed, and shots, that Kev had hardly had to dump down his throat, was growing antsy. There was a fucking egg in his ass and it wasn't even fucking vibrating. His husband was in the middle of the makeshift dance floor they'd created for people to continue to embarrass themselves reliving his fucking glory days. He was high and horny and his husband was looking a little nutty as he bump and grinded with Mandy. In any other setting this would've concerned Mickey greatly, but coke had been known to cause him a little amnesia.

"Hey asshole!" Mickey snorted shoving at Ian until Mandy was out of their way.

"Mick! Come dance with me!"

He didn't even wait for an answer before pulling Mickey by his hips and establishing a sloppy white girl drunk rhythm. Even through the haze of the drugs and the alcohol it didn't go unnoticed to him that his husband was absolutely fucked up.

"You enjoying yourself so far?" The redhead breathed.

"I'd be enjoying myself a lot more if my asshole was vibrating. You forget my present or what?"

"Oh shit." He giggled manically. "I did. I completely forgot."

Where he usually would've paused and stared knowingly at Ian, his high distorted everything until he was leaning on him and sharing a little giggle of my own.

"Come on man; don't leave me hangin'."

And just like that there was the press of a button in Ian's jeans and Mickey's body was bowing into Ian's arms.

"Holy fuck." He huffed.

"Mmm. There's ten settings Mick, shall we see how many it takes to make you…pop?"

They stood there sandwich together completely honed in on each other and not a single thing else. Mickey's fingers fisted into Ian's shirt and their hips pressed firmly together as the pulsations ripped through him. Four settings in and the tremors had turned to a throbbing beat inside him. It was completely turning him out and he was helpless to stop it. Apparently he couldn't stop himself from riding his husband's thigh like a little bitch either. Moral of the story? Coke is great and denim absorbs cum almost instantly.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

"Oh shit… my head!"

The world was spinning. Mickey was convinced. He was lying flat on his back underneath their kitchen table. His underwear was missing and he could see traces of dried vomit on the underside of it. Shit had gone down and his body was taking a little longer to deal with it than usual. Oh god he was old!

It took him a minute but he finally managed to dig himself out from under the table. Mandy was passed out on their somehow over turned couch with a party hat still on her head and Kev, although nowhere to be found at the moment, was fast asleep in their bath tub with one sock on. Oddly enough none of this was what stuck out to Mickey, all of that made sense. The confusing thing about all of it was the fact that in the midst of all the drunken crazed fuckery there was Ian in the middle of their kitchen cooking and whistling as if it was an average day. And there it was. Without the drugs or booze to cloud his system Mickey was able to see freely and he didn't like what was in front of him.  He was gonna deal with that too . . . just as soon as he could stand.

"Hey birthday boy! How's it feel to be thirty?!" Ian grinned way too bright for the day after whatever the fuck had gone down last night.

Mickey groaned. "I'll deal with you in a minute. Coffee. Now."

And so he sat in a chair with no table in front of him drinking coffee and trying to keep his eyes open as Ian moved like a tornado around him. As the hangover slowly ebbed the clawing fear of something being wrong with Ian came rushing in. He was moving too fast, too careless and reckless without a thought of anything in front of him. Mickey could see that. He noticed all the things he'd once been too uneducated to understand. The compulsive movements, the over brightness in his eyes, the fact that he should've been down for the fucking count just like everybody else but was instead flipping fucking pancakes.

Ian went to place Mickey's breakfast in front of him only to laugh feverishly for way too long when he saw that there was no table there.

"Hey. Hey come here." Mickey demanded when his stomach had officially twisted into knots.

And Ian beamed, breakfast completely forgotten as he climbed to straddle Mickey's lap fingers fist into his rotten dress shirt from the night before.

"You're mine today, you hear me? The boys had their fun and now it's my turn. I wanna give you everything tonight." He whispered lips ghosting over Mickey's jaw.

It didn't have nearly the desired affect and instead Mickey was left feeling a dreadful sense of déjà vu. When they'd been young and Ian had been manic and had taken him right there on the chair. It hadn't felt good, hadn't felt warm and like love and all the shit they'd built together over the years. It'd felt wrong. Because that wasn't Ian, and it wouldn't be Ian until he got him the help he needed. That protective nature flared up in his chest and he just instantly knew that things weren't okay. It took Ian slipping his hand down his pants for Mickey to jump into action.

"Ian stop, dammit I need to talk to you!"

It was a little harsher than he meant for it be but damn was this bringing back memories for him and not good ones.

"You get grumpier every year you know that?" He smiled.

"Ian, when's the last time you took your meds?"

He groaned. "Oh not this again, Mick, please it's your birthday for Christ's sake."

"Answer the question."

"Five hours ago when I woke up! Are you happy daddy? Can I go play with the other boys and girls now?"

"Did you hear that? You said you took them five hours ago. Look what time it is now."

Ian glanced over at the clock on their microwave noting that it had been six in the morning five hours ago and the party hadn't ended till after four.

Ian blinked. "It's not—I just got excited is all. I probably should've stayed away from the party favors. It's nothing Mickey."

"It's not nothing." He disagreed softly taking Ian's face in his hands. "Just walk me through some things okay? What'd you feel like when you took your meds this morning?"

"I—I felt fine. I took them and I went about my day. I was gonna practice making crepes like Martha showed me and then I decided to make crepes and pancakes because I thought you might like variety."

"So no tremors? No shaking, no dizziness, nothing?"

"No, not for a while now. I just thought I was finally getting used to my dosage."

Mickey wiped a hand over his face a telltale sign of stress and Ian's chest got tight at the sight. It was Mickey's birthday, officially now, and Ian was ruining it. Ian and his dumb fucking head that couldn't act normal were ruining it just like Monica had when she'd shown up at their door step. And in that moment he couldn't help but wonder if he really was like her after all.

"Mickey I'm okay. You don't need to worry; I'm sure it's all just one big coincidence because of the party ya know? I shouldn'ta done that stuff." He tried to convince him with a smile.

Mickey glanced at him nervously. "We should call your doctor to be sure, Ian."

"Tomorrow. Today is our day. It's your day. I don't want this to take away from that. Please?"

"Ian your health is more important to me than a good fuck you gotta know that. It should be more important to you too."

Ian's eyes drooped slightly and he kept his eyes on his hands instead of Mickey's face as he spoke.

"Look I get that, I do but . . . I really wanna have a good day. I wanna spend time with you and love you and be a sappy, annoying married couple. I need that today. I need this to be good. Please don't take this away from me. If you think something is wrong I'll go to the doctor just not today. Okay?"

Mickey peered up at him and wondered for the millionth time in his life just what was going through Ian Gallagher's head. It was his birthday, he was still kind of high, and his husband was on his lap frowning because he just wanted to make him happy. So, Mickey decided to be selfish and whether he would go on to regret that selfishness was left for another day. That day was gonna be all about him and his husband.

"Okay." He sighed. "But if you start feeling out of control you fucking tell me understand?"

"Absolutely. Now come let me love you."

Mickey could already tell he'd made a mistake.

Instead of being smart, functioning adults they checked into a hotel and left Kev and Mandy at their house with the vomit and never ending piles of garbage. It was Ian's idea, of course, and the second Mickey saw a valet he made a mental note to check on his husband's spending habits. But it didn't really matter in that moment. They were holding hands and sneaking kisses in the elevator and Mickey felt happy. It was his birthday and he felt good, something that used to be so foreign. Excuse him for reveling a little bit.

"There's beer in the fridge. Nothing fancy, promise. Just go lay down, relax." Ian grinned kissing Mickey's cheek as he dashed to the bathroom.

Mickey of course took that as code for "get butt fucking naked and present yourself on the fancy linens". He'd long since started to accept his body for what it was, with the help of Ian of course, and he'd found that sometimes he had to just jump into things rather than give himself time to worry. This was one of those moments. And the cheesy porn-star sideways lean with the emphasis on the crotch was golden if his husband's laugh had anything to do with it.

"You didn't have to pose for me." He murmured laying the couples kit at the front of the bed and crawling towards him. "You're so beautiful though. Look at you."

His cheeks burned, body instinctively leaning towards that praise that only Ian could give him. He loved to feel that way that only Ian could make him feel, because he was comfortable enough to give in to those emotions.

Ian straddled his body slowly fingers trailing down his cheeks and along his hair line. Mickey smiled as the kisses began, soft chaste pressing of his lips on the strangest parts of his body. His nose. His clavicle. His eye lids.

"You got freckles ya know? They're everywhere. Not like mine, a lot fainter, but . . . I love them so much." Ian cooed.

Ian truly made it his goal to worship Mickey. Whether it was with his hands or his lips or in special cases his tongue he treated Mickey like Morse code taking the time to make sure every word came out right.  He kissed his way over his belly leaving soft touches on his hips and thighs. His teeth grazed the inside of his knee causing a sound to come out of Mickey that Ian had never heard before, but instantly fell in love with. It became his immediate goal to make that sound come out over and over again that night.

"Ian." He begged voice wrecked and desperate. "Please."

His cock had hardened soon after Ian joined him on the bed and now was leaking hard on his stomach.

"I'll take care of you." Ian promised licking his lips. "You're so good for me, Mick."

Before Mickey could preen at the praise Ian was slipping the leaking head between his lips and sucking _hard._ His long fingers dug into Mickey's milky thighs, most definitely leaving marks, and there was that sound again. High pitched and grunty and needy. Mickey threaded his legs around Ian's back, ginger hair filling his fingers as he tried so hard not to scream. It's wonderful, this feeling, and neither of them take it for granted. They savior it.

The phrase sucking someone's brain through their dick could have some literal meaning though, because Mickey was pretty sure his mental capacity has shrunken significantly. He graduated from college for Christ's sake and yet here he was only being able to form one worded sentences.

"Y—Yea! Fuck! Ian!"

He was a little afraid he was gonna accidently choke Ian with his thighs if he wasn't careful when that smug bastard had the nerve to swallow around his dick all the while slipping a somehow lubed finger up his ass. That's when everything went white.

"Wow." Ian chuckled kissing at Mickey's thigh. "I'm just getting started, but fuck, you get me going, Mick. Mick?"

And kid you not right there on the very expensive bed that Ian had rented for the night was his birthday boy passed the fuck out from a blow job.

"This is the decline isn't it? You're gonna start using me to get off and roll over and go to sleep and there will never be romance again."

Mickey snored in response.

Happy Birthday.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

This time waking up was much better than the last. His bones felt like jelly instead of the cardboard they'd turned into under the kitchen table. His body was stress free, his soul was calm and all was right in the world.  Then he remembered what happened…. Maybe the world could just turn into a black hole and swallow him instead.

Ian was watching him sleep, the fucking creep, and the grin was already plastered on is face as his fingers smoothed over Mickey's side.

"You okay there?" He murmured. "I got you some room service . . . They don't have a senior special, but I did manage to get you jello and sign you up for the beginners aerobics class."

Mickey groaned rolling over as his husband's gleeful chuckles followed him under his pillow.

"It was a onetime thing! It's not like a shot my load in three seconds I lasted a good two hours under your sensual nut milking bullshit!"

"Oh don't get mad babe . . . you'll run up your blood pressure."

"Goddammit Ian!"

With Grumpy Mickey back in full swing the room service was completely ignored at he managed to rummage his way through the couple's kit Ian was supposed to be seducing him with. His eyes landed on the bright red roll of tape first.

"The fuck is this?"

"That's pleasure tape. For like bondage and bdsm shit. It's supposed to be more comfortable, less sticky, help you get the mood or whatever." He shrugged.

And thus the idea was born.

"I wanna tie you up."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Gallagher. It's my birthday. I wanna tie you up. You gonna disappoint an old man on his birthday?"

Ian looked up at him trying to figure out if he was serious or not, but his eyes were relentlessly gleaming and he knew that there was nothing but excitement in those eyes.

He sighed. "As you wish."

It wasn't all that smooth, and they giggled through most of it. But the red of the tape was fucking heaven against Ian's skin and Mickey practically throbbed at the sight. He was fucking beautiful tied up and just waiting to be used. Mickey was the birthday boy and what he said, went. He said he wanted to ride his husband's dick until his thighs gave out, and thus it went.

"I ever tell you how much I love your thighs?" Mickey sighed sensually straddling his husband.

Ian shook his head hips bucking as Mickey gently rocked back and forth on top of him.

"Fuckin' do man. Love how strong they are. Muscles on your muscles and all that shit. Love how they hold me up. You think you could hold me up for a little while?"

He licked his lip and Ian practically moved them both with another hip thrust.

Suddenly their kissing and Mickey's arms are wrapped around him and he can't move he just has to take it, which somehow makes Mickey all the more comfortable with everything. He grinds a little harder, lets that breathy sound come out against Ian's collarbone. And Ian hears before he sees Mickey opening himself up with the lube from their kit, jaw clenching when the warm sensation seeps into his bones. Jesus it's good. Too good.

"Want you to wreck me." Mickey whimpered slowly spreading lube over Ian's erection. "Wanna ride you till we can't move. Call me fuckin' old. I'll show you old."

Watching Ian expectedly, Mickey leaned up unhurriedly sinking himself all the way down till he was seated firmly in Ian's lap. They both released collective groans at the feeling, for Mickey one of fullness and satisfaction, and for Ian one of the most perfect sweltering heat surrounding him on all sides.

"W—Wait Mick," Ian grunted. "there's no—"

"Don't need one. Wanna feel you. Lie back and shut up."

And he did just that. Mickey focused on the color of the tape again. How it was red like Ian's lips, like his hair, and his cock. The fact that all the control, for once, rested solely in his hands. As he rode him pleasure coursed madly through his body and he knew that it was all him. He was in charge of his own destiny, his own climax even (pun totally intended). Riding Ian was immaculate. He was thick and long and filled Mickey so fucking good. His eyes never left his and he didn't have to say a word to tell Mickey that it felt good, that he was riding it so fucking good. But he did anyway leaving Mickey to love him even more.

Mickey's fingers dug into Ian's stomach for leverage riding hard and fast. Each slap of their hips was testament to how far Mickey would go to prove a point. Not to mention it felt good, like really fucking good.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Ian." He huffed thighs burning with every lunge he took.

"Does it feel good?"

"Y—Yea. Fuck it feels good. So good inside me."

"Tell me. Tell me how good it is."

And in a revolutionary feat, he did.

Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian's neck ignoring the tape that kept him tied up and started to grind down, so that level of fullness never left him. His legs made a knot of their own behind his husband's back as he really began to rut against him.

"It's so good. The way it stretches me. Holy shit I can feel you at the rim." Mickey whined hiding his face in Ian's chest.

"I love the way you ride me… You're so good for me, feel so fucking good." He huffed.

They both continued to pant and gasp and sigh as they rocked together each rushing towards a very satisfying orgasm. Mickey was leaking all over Ian's stomach, a beautiful sight in itself, when he reached to fist the throbbing flesh. And to Ian there's nothing more beautiful. Mickey's eyes close and his head tilts back but the beauty is still over whelming. His chest blotched with blood filled skin, teeth raking at his lip as those thighs continue to move until he's bouncing in his lap. It's a clap then, skin meeting over and over again just as the bed frame meets the wall. Ian wants to touch him so bad but he know he has to settle. Mickey is the birthday boy after all.

All it takes is the sight of Mickey coming undone for Ian to do the exact same thing euphoria pumping through their veins just as much as blood. If anything is concluded from the current events it's that Mickey is far from old and can ride dick like a spring chicken.

"Jesus Christ." Ian moaned as Mickey pulled off with a squelching plop and collapsed next to him.

"Tell me about, asshole, you been saving up a load or what?"

Ian laughed breathlessly watching his husband deal with the fruits of his labor.

"Think of it as an extra birthday present!"

"Fuck off!"

He continued to laugh not remembering the fact that he was still very much tied up, and once the notion struck him was only met with silence when he called out for help. Oops.

*                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

Mickey was at work when he got the call. After an amazing weekend with Kev and Mandy life had continued on in its normal fashion. It was a Monday, but he a pleasant ache in his body that made it a little easier to get through the day. Every now and again he would think about Ian and the hotel and smile. It really had been a birthday for the books. That was of course until…

"Mikhailo Milkovich-Gallagher?"

Mickey's attention was a little wrapped up in his paper work for the day, so he wasn't all the way there.

"Yea, that's me."

"I'm calling you as an emergency contact for Ian Gallagher, he was admitted to the Bellvue hospital after a car accident."

And the world just kind of stops for a minute.

"Car accident?! Shit I'm on my way okay, okay just… is he okay?"

Mickey was out of his office and dashing for the parking lot as his heart hammered unsteadily in his chest.

"Mr. Gallagher he's fine.  It was a minor accident, the doctor treated him for a head wound but other than maybe a minor concussion he'll be okay. That's not really our major concern. The doctor would really love to meet with you and talk some more in depth if you don't mind."

"In depth? In depth about what? What the fuck's wrong with him?" He snapped.

"I'm not authorized to discuss that over the phone. We'd really love to have you come in, sir."

"Yea, okay, thanks a fucking lot for nothing lady!"

Mickey ran two lights and almost crashed three times before he made it to the hospital. He felt sick to his stomach, and if it weren't for his incessant need to get to Ian he probably would've vomited.  The hospital was abuzz with people running around doing absolutely nothing that concerned him. Ian was the only thing on his mind. He ran straight up to a desk winded and angry and scared.

"Ian. Ian Gallagher. I got a call that he was admitted here." His voice shook.

The woman at the desk, who didn't even try to make eye contact, simply handed him a clipboard and continued to type away at her phone.

"You'll need to fill this out." She responded in a monotone.

His eyes widened incredulously. "Listen lady, my tempers gotten a lot better over the years which is the only reason I haven't thrown that fucking phone of yours across the fucking room. I'm not filling out shit until you tell me where my husband is and treat me like I'm a fucking human being whose loved one is in the goddamn hospital."

Needless to say she went to find out where Ian Gallagher was.

He was lead to a room where Ian was sitting up with his legs dangling over a hospital bed. His eyes were rimmed with red and there was a bandage on his forehead, which brought another intense round of nausea to Mickey's stomach. He headed straight for him taking, what felt like, his first breath since he'd gotten the call as he wrapped his arms around his husband.

"Holy fuck, are you okay? Jesus Christ, Ian what happened?!" He asked voice near hysterics.

"Mickey it's broken." Ian sobbed hiding his face in Mickey's chest. "It's fucking broken."

"What?! What's broken?!"

"My watch."

He paused. "Are you out of your fucking mind?! Talkin' bout a fucking watch, I thought you meant a body part Ian, goddammit!"

And that's when Ian just flipped. His eyes got dark, he stopped crying instantly. He got mad.

"You bought me this watch. When we were kids, with your coke money. How could you?! How could you just not care! I love this watch!"

"Ian, man, we can get the watch fixed."

"No! No it's ruined. It's ruined forever!"

And then he just broke down crying again.

When the doctor came in things got even more confusing as Ian rushed off the bed and into the corner looking absolutely scared shitless.

"Mick they're trying to inject me! They wanna hurt me, help!"

It was all so overwhelming. There was so much going on all at once and he just didn't know what to do. His instincts were to comfort Ian and tell him everything was okay, but from the looks of it that was far from the truth. The lady on the phone had said it was just a minor car accident when Ian was acting truly and actually fucked up. He had no idea what to say or how to proceed. All he knew was that Ian was scared and he just wanted to make him feel better, but he was scared too.

"Just—Just let me talk to him. Let me calm him down okay?"

The doctor sighed but nodded stepping out of the room. Mickey led Ian back to the bed and was able to get him to calm down enough to lie down. He ran his fingers through his hair and just whispered that things would be okay until he was asleep. It didn't matter that his hands were shaking or that he was a fucking ball of anxiety just as long as Ian was okay.

"Mr. Gallagher?" The doctor asked poking his head inside the door. "Hi I'm Doctor Lynch; I'm looking after your husband for the duration of his stay. Can I come in?"

Mickey sighed sitting up and nodding. "Sure, okay."

He walked in and pulled up a chair as Mickey ran his hands tiredly over his face.

"So Ian was admitted to us after a car accident. He had a slight pain in his head from the crash, which we treated obviously, but that's not really our major concern. As I'm sure you've noticed Mr. Gallagher has been exuding some problematic behavior."

Mickey snorted. "There's a new one. 'Problematic behavior'. He's fuckin bipolar, alright? We—We've taken care of it; he just needs to up his meds or something."

Dr. Lynch nodded peering down at a clipboard of his own.

"Acute mania, bipolar one with psychotic tendencies. Also says he suffers from anxiety. That about cover it?"

Mickey nodded softly his fingers reached behind him to touch Ian's knee just to have the contact.

"Mr. Gallagher I'm afraid it might not be as simple as just upping meds. Unfortunately, we do get patients suffering from bipolar disorder that have medication that seems to crap out on them, or stop working all together. Whether this is the body building a tolerance or just the medication itself, we don't really know, but what I can tell you is that Ian may have to go through some pretty intensive treatment to bounce back to where he was. I think your husband is showing signs of psychosis, and I think it may be beneficial for him to be at a facility that specializes in his kind of disorder."

"What you want me to put him in a nuthouse again?" He asked incredulously. "No fucking way. No fucking way! He's staying with me, I'm gonna take care of him just like I always have."

"But sir I—"

"You keepin' him over night or can I take him home?" Mickey interrupted.

The doctor sighed. "I just need you to fill out his paper work and we can have him discharged tonight."

"Sounds great."

He was already on his phone searching for a very specific number basically giving the doctor his cue to leave.

Mickey: _At hospital with Ian. He's okay for now. Doc says meds have completely stopped working. How fast can you get here?_

Dr. Adams: _I'm booking my flight now._

"Ian. Ian, man wake up."

"Mick?" He replied groggily.

"Get your shoes back on okay? I'm gonna take you home."

He cupped Ian's cheek kissing his forehead softly and that seemed to be enough motivation to get him up. When the doctor came in with the paper work Ian was immediately hesitant and stayed glued to Mickey side as he filled everything out. By the time Ian was actually discharged the entire day had gone by.

They drove home in silence, Ian seeming disoriented and foggy while Mickey just wanted to get him into the safe confines of their home.

He helped Ian out of his clothes and got him into bed before sitting beside him. He knew he needed to call Fiona and the rest of the Gallaghers, let them at least know what had happened, but the thought of leaving Ian was too tough to deal with.

"You wanna tell me what happened today?"

Ian sighed. "I was driving. I just wanted to listen to some music. And I guess maybe I wasn't paying too much attention when I plugging my phone in, cause before I knew it I was hitting the guy in front of me. It was kind of a three way collision I think cause someone else was turning and hit me as well."

"You think? You guess? Ian do you . . . do you really remember what happened to day?"

Ian shook his head solemnly wincing at the distressed look on Mickey's face. He knew that look. It was the look of a man faced with way too much burden, and all that burden was nothing but Ian himself and his fucked up head. He hated that look.

"I wanna go to bed now." He whispered.

"Yea, okay. You could probably use some sleep."

Mickey didn't bother with the pills seeing as how they apparently weren't doing shit anyway and just kissed Ian goodnight instead. He called Fiona, talked her off the deep end and stopped her from flying all the way from Chicago. He told Mandy, and for some reason talked to Martha for a little bit, maybe just to hear a familiar voice. The entire time he just kept glancing back at the parted door to check on Ian though. This kind of thing was hard, on both of them, but Mickey's number one concern was always to make sure he was okay.

When he went to bed that night it was to the sounds of Ian crying under the covers. Crying wasn't an everyday thing for either of them growing up in Southside, but something about his cycles made him extremely overwhelmed. When his disorder got on top of him, it wasn't at all strange for Ian to cry and sometimes Mickey liked to think it was a way for him to get rid of all the stress that he bottled up. It was his way of finding some good in all the bad. Didn't mean he liked to see him cry though.

"C'mon Freckles, what you cryin' for huh?" He murmured softly peeling back the covers.

"I hate this. I hate being tired and crazy and ruining everything for you. I hate how bad I need you right now and how my brain just takes away every good thing I have. It's all my fault. I was a burden to Fi, and now I'm a burden to you. Just a ball and chain with a fucking unstable mental state on top of it."

Mickey nodded pulling the covers over them like they used to when they were little, when a blanket fort was the only comfort either of them could ask for.

"So you got an unstable mental state. I got daddy issues, and anger problems, body image issues, and a bit of eating problem. We all got our shit. I married you cause I'm willing to deal with yours. You don't burden me jackass, that's just the crazy talking."

Ian snorted at the rather unorthodox way of addressing his illness. It was a little insensitive but it was Mickey, it was them and it comforted him slightly.

"God I just wanna be normal. With a fucking white picket fence and a dog and two kids. I wanna mow the lawn not end up in the hospital because I'm manic and hitting people with my car."  

Mickey sighed. "No one's normal, Ian. Everyone's just struggling to get through the day. Some days are harder than others. This is our bad day. We'll get through it. Just let me know that you're willing to try, man and we'll keep pushing."

It took a minute to get anything out of him. Obviously the day had had its wear and tear on Ian. But at the end of the day, Ian wanted to be good, and that really did make all the difference.

"Okay. I'll try."

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

He does try. Dr. Adams flies in and works with Ian's therapist to start him from scratch. Despite a couple of small changes to dosages, Ian's medication from Option's had pretty much stayed the same all those years. So, when it came to creating a whole new system to keep his body in check, Mickey could think of no one better. It's just as hard as the first time to watch him spiral. Fiona and Liam, the only ones still actively at the Gallagher home fly in to help, but it still hurts to watch him refuse to leave the bed.

Mickey plays his role ten times better than the last time, because he's got a little more experience under his belt. He brings Ian toast and doesn't force him to eat more than the two or three bites he can manage. He lies with him at night, and way farther into the morning than he should, but he gets up and he goes to work. It sucked to be away from him, but he'd learned that his routine was important, for both of them. He was there for him in every way he could be and didn't take offence when Ian couldn't do the same. This was them, and he was perfectly willing to deal with that.

As things began to lock into place Ian had to piece himself back together. He had to question what in the past few months had been symptoms, what had been him, and what had been the mania talking. The self-loathsome part of himself wanted to take away all the good memories like Mickey's birthday . . . that night at the hotel. It was Mickey who erased the thoughts of bitterness from his head. At night, when he would come home from work and crawl into bed with Ian, even if he was thoroughly repulsed and couldn't touch Mickey, he was there. He told him that those memories weren't bad, that **he** wasn't bad. Those words added to the clarity and when he emerged from the fog he knew exactly who to go to.

"Can't believe you got Dr. Adams to fly in." Ian murmured happily.

"Worked, didn't it? Look at you, good as new."

"Yea, I guess so. Just hate puttin' you through that."

"Don't. My choice remember? This is where I wanna be. Now eat your goddamn sandwich."

It was Ian's first time eating outside the bedroom since the whole debacle and Mickey had "cooked" for him.

 He picked up the sandwich and took a huge bite. He liked his choices too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks!  
> Just a little heads up in case you don't look at tumblr or don't read any of my other fics. My grandmother unfortunately lost a very short, hard battle with cancer, so I've been a little out of sorts. But I've found that writing is a beautiful way to not only work through the pain, but to live with her memory, because she was such a dominating factor in my writing when i was little. I'm okay, and I've gotten this done so i wanted to post it. The fandom is shrinking by the minute so i don't know how many are even around to read this ,but if you are it would mean the world to just leave a comment letting me know you're still reading. I'd appreciate it so much, as i already appreciate you guys. Thank you!
> 
> Come find me  
> zankivich.tumblr.com 
> 
> Comments and kudos are ALWAYS appreciated :D


	24. Baby Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is 35. Ian is 32. Someone's expecting, and some are more jealous than others...

Mickey is thirty-five when he has to fly to Chicago to watch another goddamn Gallagher being born. Fiona got her own little happy ever after with Jimmy-Steve-Roger Rabbit or whatever the fuck his name was, but it was Debbie who was popping one out the hatch. Long story short they med in college, got engaged, but Debbie wanted to wait until after graduating college to start a family. Real smart one that Debs (no teenage pregnancy for her, no siree!) Anyway, now she had a degree, a year of work under her belt and was ready to start that family. And since the guy was actually in the waiting room with her, Mickey figured he couldn't be too much of a shmuck. None of this concerned Mickey in the slightest. What concerned him was putting Ian Gallagher with in a ten mile radius of a maternity ward. Baby fever was the last thing they needed.

This was truly a useless task seeing as how Ian had been shopping like the kid was his, since Debs had broken the news. Ian had let the whole baby thing for a few years, but as they grew older he seemed to get bitterer about it. Some things weren't meant to be budged on though, and Mickey Milkovich-Gallagher was not budging on this one. Absolutely not.

Mike, Debbie's fiancé, was the only one allowed inside the delivery room, so Mickey was left to the unfortunate task of watching a blur of red and brown haired Gallaghers pace back and forth. It was driving him absolutely insane. How long can it really take her shove that thing out? It turned out the answer was infinity, because six hours later the kid wasn't out yet, and Ian was on the cusp of losing it.

"Jesus Christ, Ian would just sit down!" Mickey hissed kicking at his ankle.

"Why is it taking so long? What if something's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Took my mom ten hours just to push Iggy's fat fucking head through her pelvis. This shit is normal. Sit."

With a groan that sounded surprisingly whiny, Ian plopped down in the seat beside Mickey sprawling out across his husband in a very star like fashion. Liam, who had sprouted in his early teens and was the closest to Ian's height, snickered at the two. He was at Chicago University on, you guessed it, a basketball scholarship. A Gallagher playing ball, it's truly as funny as it sound. And the best part was he was studying to be a bio chemist. Ian would often argue that he'd turned out smarter than Lip, and it was the best fucking thing ever. They were all oozing with pride for him. Started from the bottom and all that shit. He loved his older brother, and adored Mickey so he always got a kick out of them.

"You sure this isn't what you want? Sitting in a delivery room watching the magic of life happen?"

Mickey snorted. "And watch your ass pace until you wear a hole in the floor? No fuckin' thanks man."

"But Mickey, "Ian sighed deeply. "it's a baby. Who doesn't want a baby?"

"Me? It's pretty much the reason I bottom."

Liam found this especially funny.

"Don’t encourage him. Don't you wanna be an Uncle?" Ian asked.

Liam shrugged. "An Uncle through you, and uncle through Debs…. I'll live either way."

Ian groaned to himself. "I hate my family."

By the time the baby finally decided to grace everyone with its presence even the robo-genuis had showed up. Still, Mickey was left to watch his husband act like a mess in Debbie's room, automatically reaching to take the baby. His attachment to the child was actually ridiculous. Debbie's fiancés should've looked more concerned; Mickey had a feeling Ian was contemplating bolting with the kid like Batty Shelia did with the Asian baby.

"You gotta give the kid back you know. I ain't bailing your ass out of jail for kidnapping your nephew." Mickey whispered.

Ian huffed letting the baby snuggle deeper into his arms. Apparently, he wasn't concerned either.

"This is your fault. I want one." The "grown" man whimpered.

"Yea, tell me more when that thing starts shittin'."

"Mickey I'd appreciate if you wouldn't call my new born child a thing." Debbie sighed tiredly from her bed.

Mickey waved her off. "It's a term of endearment, Debs."

"Sure."

Ian bit his lip and turned away from the two continued to coddle the child.

It wouldn't come to a head until later that night.

Only Mike was allowed to stay with Debbie overnight, so everyone else made their way back to the  Gallagher residence. To think the place they entered was the same place Ian and Mickey used to read books under the stairs, and later in life exchange hickeys was unbelievable. Jimmy had begun renovations on the house soon after moving in with Fiona and the place was definitely looking beautiful. This only served to upset Ian further. It seemed like everyone was settling into a sense of family, at least everyone that wanted it, and Ian felt cheated. Mickey was perfect, and he loved him with all his being; he just wanted them to have a kid. To raise someone, together.

They all sat down to dinner that night, Fiona still not being much of a cook ordered pizza, and Mickey could tell Ian wasn't into it. He could tell the happiness of everyone around was killing him. And it sucked. It sucked to have his wants and needs bring pain to the only person he cared about, but Mickey wasn't interested in babies and probably never would be. He just wanted Ian. And he'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt to know that the feeling wasn't mutual.

"You wanna sneak upstairs and see if your old bed still squeaks like it used to?" Mickey asked in a hopeful attempt to lighten the mood and maybe Ian's load. (literally)

"Hmm?" He mumbled distractedly. "No thanks I'm not in the mood."

Just great. They didn't even have a kid and it was already a pain in Mickey's ass, and NOT the good kind.

"C'mon man, just relax a little. You'll get to see the kid all the time. I'm sure Debs will let you babysit."

"But that's just it," Ian snapped. "she won't. She's finished with school and her and Mike are gonna live in Chicago. And you and I will go back to New York where no one is waiting for us and it'll be like all the rest of my family. Occasional skyping. A fuckin' letter here or there. And the next time I see 'em I won't even recognize him. I'll just be the Uncle who lives in New York and comes down every other christmas."

"Ian—"

"I'm not hungry, anymore."

Ian got up and shuffled up stairs leaving Mickey to down his beer and run his hands over his face. This man would be the death of him.

Fiona gave him her sympathetic, children are dying in Africa, doe-eyed look as he went after him. Unlike Ian, Fiona had been fine with not having kids. After raising all the Gallaghers for the majority of her life, and with Liam finally out of the house, she was left to enjoy her life. Raising another kid wasn't a part of that, and Jimmy respected that decision. They lived their life much like Ian and Mickey did, just with a little less anal. The difference was, they were content, and Mickey was too. The difference was Ian. And it made all the difference in the world.

"Ian, it's Mickey." He called knocking at his childhood bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

When he didn't get a response, Mickey took that as a yes and pushed his way inside. Ian sat on his bed, legs and arms crossed with his chin jutting out. This meant Mickey would have to tread lightly to avoid a fight, which knowing him would be a fail anyway. He sat down next to him letting the tension thicken as Ian refused to look at him. It was tough, because it was really the only major thing they'd ever disagreed on, and definitely the only thing neither of them was willing to compromise on.

"Look man, we gotta figure this out, or you're just gonna end up hating me for the rest of our lives." Mickey murmured.

Ian didn't mention the fact that hatred seemed pretty accurate in that moment. When he stayed silent Mickey sighed and shuffled closer till their shoulders touched turning to stare at his husband. Ian's face had filled out a little with age and he had a nice stubble going on that Mickey wanted to kiss not fight with. Fighting was dumb. Make peace not war and all that shit. He realized how ironic that sounded considering his teen years, but it didn't make him feel any different on the subject.

Ian exhaled nosily too turning his head so that their eyes met.

"I want a baby, Mick." He whispered.

"I know. I know you do Ian, but I don't."

"Well can't we just talk about it? I mean there has to be something we can do, some way for us both to be happy!"

Mickey's eyebrows rose. "You sayin' you ain't happy with me?"

"Of course not." Ian groaned. "I just . . . I want to be a dad. I want you and I'm so glad that I have you but…"

"But? The fuck are you saying, cause it sounds an awful lot like an ultimatum."

"It's not! I just need you to give me this one thing!"

"One thing? I've given you my entire fucking life! I've given you everything I have and now you're saying that wasn't enough? None of that means anything just cause I don't wanna raise some fuckin' whining, shitting baby?!"

And it's such a tender moment for them. Because neither of them are wrong in what they want, just in how they're going about it. And their feelings aren't invalid. Ian wants to be a dad, and Mickey just wants him to tell him it wasn't all for nothing. But they're angry and they're hurt, and so they reflect those emotions onto each other because it's so much easier than dealing with their own shit.

"You gotta stop being so goddamn cynical all the time. We can't just sit in a house for the rest of our lives fucking and eating and sleeping. We have to grow up; we have to do something with our lives!" Ian yelled.

"No. We really don't! You're so hung on this white picket fence, perfect love story bullshit you don't see how twisted what you're saying really is. Not everyone has to pop out a fucking infant to have a satisfying life!"

"But maybe I do!"

"But I don't!"

You can see how redundant the conversation was becoming. One thing that seems to happen in fights is words that you don't really mean start to come out of you. No one was better at this than Ian and Mickey.

"We can barely take care of ourselves, why would you wanna bring a kid into that? Aren't we fucked up enough!"

"We take care of each other what would be the difference! If you would just stop being so fucking afraid of becoming Terry maybe we could move on to being functional human beings."

"I'm not afraid of shit; I'm realistic. The sooner you realize we aren't functional human beings, the sooner you get that through your thick fucking skull, then maybe we could get somewhere."

"Why? What makes us not functional? The fact that if I don't take a dozen pills a day I see things that aren't there? Or is it because you can't look at a plate of food without having to go to a fucking twelve step program?"

"FUCK YOU, IAN!"

"NO FUCK YOU! I DON'T WANT A KID WITH YOUR FUCKED UP GENES ANYWAY!"

"OH YEA CAUSE MY GENES ARE THE ONE WHO'LL FUCK THE KID UP. THEY DON'T DO TESTING FOR EATING DISORDERS JACKASS, NUTTY GINGERS WHO STICK THEIR DICKS IN ANYTHING THAT MOVES IS A DIFFERENT STORY!"

"MY ONLY MISTAKE WAS STICKING MY DICK IN YOU!"

"FEELING'S FUCKING MUTUAL."

"GOD I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU TOO!"

Ian huffed as Mickey stormed out of the room dragging his suitcase and coat with him. Good fucking riddance.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mickey was still livid when he made it to the airport. He was livid when he found out there were no flights to New York until the morning. He even more livid when he kept getting calls from stupid fucking Gallaghers that couldn't mind their own goddamn business. With no place to go until the morning, and absolutely no way in hell he was going back to Ian's ass, he was really left with no other options.

"Well if it isn't the dirtiest white boy in America. Not so dirty anymore." Vee giggled.

"Yea, fuck off. You mind if I stay here tonight? Flight to New York won't be here till mornin'."

She raised an eyebrow. "Where's the chiseled carrot husband you usually tow along everywhere?"

"Hopefully he fell out a fuckin' window or somethin."

"Ah, come on in."

He dropped his shit off on the couch, aka his bed for the night, and immediately followed Veronica into the kitchen where she was digging for boos. Kev was out manning the bar, and their girls were out doing whatever teenagers do at night. She found him the whiskey, and grabbed the bottle of vodka for herself before plopping down beside him. They'd had an interesting relationship growing up. She'd always been around the Gallagher place and seemed to care about Ian and the rest of them as much as he had. And as he got older, she often times gave him a shot when no one else was willing too. Veronica and Kevin were just as much a part of his family as the rest of the Gallaghers.

"So what happened to peaches and cream this time?" She asked unscrewing the cap on her alcohol.

Mickey went straight for his first shot knocking back the bitter liquid down his throat before answering.

"Peaches wants to add a peach to the family. Now that Debbie is out there poppin out her own peach he thinks this has somehow changed how Cream feels. And Peaches is a vindictive bastard who gets cruel when he doesn't get his way. Don't let the fucking puppy dog face fool you. Gallagher's vicious."

"And here I thought we were talking about a snack." She chuckled before sobering at Mickey's glare. "Alright, alright. So you guys got in a fight."

"Nasty one, this time. Said a lot of shit. We both did."

"That's rough. Gallaghers tend to go below the belt when they're mad."

"Fuckin' tell me about it." Mickey mumbled. "He told me he didn't want a kid with my fucked up genes anyway. I called him a nutty ginger that sticks his dick in anything that moves though."

"Damn, y'all sure love to low blow it huh?"

He shrugged and went for another shot.

"I ever tell you how I felt when I had the twins?"

He shook his head no, wincing as the whiskey began to warm his blood.

She took a gulp of her own. "I didn't connect with them at all. Kev, Kev was amazing, but I just couldn't do it. Every time they would cry it would get on my goddamn nerves. It got to the point where being here, with them, I just couldn't handle it. I started working more hours at the Alibi just to be alone. I couldn't deal, you know? And I felt like shit, I was a terrible mom when they always tell you these stories of connecting with your babies and maternal instincts. That was a bunch of bullshit as far as I was concerned. There were times where I couldn't stand the little bastards, and it almost tore me and Kevin apart."

"How'd you get through it then?" Mickey asked.

"I just did. Over time you start to get used to people. The older they got, the less they shat and cried, which made it easier. But really it was all Kev. He gave me time, he specifically picked out activities that I liked and found ways for me to do fun stuff with the girls. Then one day I did their hair, cause Kev was absolutely useless. And when I was all done Gemma called me Mommy, and since then I've just tried to give them the best this shitty Southside has to offer you know? It's not easy for everyone, it's not natural for all of us."

He sighed. "Plenty of people don't have kids. Why do I have to keep giving in to every little thing he wants? Why can't I have this one thing?"

"You love him. Sometimes the people we love make us do things we don't want to do. I'm a testament to that. If you can, try to compromise. Find something you are willing to do. I hear normal people go to couples counseling. I wanna say that like me you might change your mind but I can't. You might never want kids. And if that's the case there's not really much you can do."

Mickey nodded softly peering into the bottom of his glass as if an answer might lie there.

"I think I'd like to get drunk now."

Vee nodded.

"You go right on ahead."

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Ian had a headache when he woke up the next morning. He'd slept in his bed, alone, and had stayed awake for hours wondering how he'd managed for so many years. It was cold and lonely without Mickey. It made sleeping uncomfortable and almost unbearable. He took his pills in the bathroom and stumbled downstairs where Fiona was the only awake, cooking breakfast with a sturdy hand.

"Well good morning mister." She grinned leaning over to kiss his forehead despite the fact that she had to lean up on her toes. "Sit down, I'll make you some tea."

He loved that Fiona didn't automatically lay in for him about the night before. At least she would let him eat first.

She put a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of him with the tea before leaning back against the counter with a cup of her own. Ian could feel the worry coming off of her in waves. It matched well with his own worry, so he didn't mind too much when she finally spoke up about it.

"So last night got a little heated."

Ian sighed nodding into his plate. "Yea. Yea it did."

"Does it get heated like that a lot lately?"

"What? No. Me and Mickey never fight. I mean we have like stupid little arguments about what to have for dinner and whose gonna wash the dishes, but nothing like last night. We don't play on each other's weaknesses like that."

She nodded giving him a sad smile. "Didn't really sound like you came to an agreement on anything either."

"I don't know what to do, Fi. I really don't. I can feel this tearing us apart, and I don't want that to happen."

Fiona set her mug down and made her way to Ian sitting promptly beside him and taking his hand.

"I think there's something you gotta ask yourself, sweetie. If you woke up tomorrow and you knew you couldn't have a kid would you make it? Or would that pain be too much?"

He looked down. "I—I don't know. I think it would hurt a lot. But I . . . I guess I'd have to make it."

"Okay. What if you lost Mickey tomorrow?"

All the air came whooshing past his lips and Ian's hand fisted around Fiona's.

"Don't ask me that."

"But don't you get it? You've come to the point now where you have to make a choice. You gotta decide whether Mickey or this baby is more important. Mickey's already made his decision. You can't have both this time, Ian. So it's up to you. What's more important?"

And when someone puts it to you that way it really does make things much simpler doesn't it?

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *            

 

Mickey was making the decision to stop drinking for the twelfth time in his life when Satan arrived in the form of a ring tone. And no matter how deep he burrowed under the covers, the sound still managed to find him somehow. The fuckin' thing just kept ringing and ringing, and before Mickey could begin to curse Steve Job's entire career it stopped. His mind was still very much not in order, and he did not have time for this bullshit.

That's when the pounding on the fuckin' door started.

"Goddammit!" He hissed shuffling out of his blankets. "The fuck do you—"

"I gotta talk to you. Now." Ian exclaimed shoving his way inside.

"Look man I got a hangover right now from Satan himself, I'm really not in the mood to be told how pathetic my genes would make for your ginger spawn."

"Mickey shut the fuck up and get over here. We have to talk." Ian demanded, already seated on Mickey's makeshift bed.

"Yea, whatever."

They sat next to each other on opposite sides of the couch making the space between them feel like a world away. The night before had been more than crazy; it had escalated to such a nasty place that had both of them feeling terrible. They'd grown so much and had worked so hard to have a healthy relationship. Last night had been a slip up of grandiose proportions, and the time had come to see if they could put it all back together.

"I didn't mean any of the shit I said last night." Ian started. "I was angry and hurt and I took that out on you. I said stuff I would never say to you in my right mind, and I need you to know that's now in any way how I feel about you. I'm sorry, Mick."

Mickey's eyes fluttered over to Ian's and all the tension just seemed to drop from within them. Sometimes sorry really is all it takes. 

"I wasn't any better. I just . . . I've given a lot to you. It's fuckin' corny, but it's true. I've given you everything you've ever asked for no matter how hard it was. And I didn't do none of that to hold it over your head, that's some shit my ole man used to do. But fuck Ian, don't I get just a little bit of credit?"

"'Course you do. I'm a selfish bastard sometimes. You spoil me so much whenever you put your foot down it's hard for me to cope with. And it was hard for me to think that of all the things in the world, this had to be it. I just want us to be happy."

Ian reached for Mickey's hands running his fingers along the tattoos. They'd been through hell and back together, and he knew in his heart that nothing was ever come between them.

"I talked to Fiona about it this morning. She gave me a scenario that kind of put things into perspective. She uh, she asked me if I woke up tomorrow and I knew that I couldn't ever have a baby would I be able to go on. And I told her how much it would hurt, but that I thought I could bare it." He paused to take a deep breath, fingers tightening around Mickey's hands. "But then she asked me, if I woke up tomorrow, and I learned that I lost you, could I bare that and my mind just completely rejected the question. Because there's nothing on this planet I couldn't get through as long you and I are together. But the thought of… of not having you next to me anymore? That's the worst thought I've ever had, and you and I both know I think about some fucked up things."

Mickey chuckled and the smile on his face was enough for Ian to know that they'd gone way too long without a kiss. He pulled him forward pressing their lips together so that their skin touched, and the world felt like it could finally spin again.

"I love you, so much." Ian sighed against his lips. "I couldn't ever be without you."

"Me neither, dickhead."

"If this is it, if this is what you need than I'll be okay. I can lose this, I can't lose you."

Their lips meshed together again, deep soulful kisses repairing all the damage of the night before. Mickey wrapped himself around Ian and Ian allowed himself to be wrapped. Their hands traveled each other's bodies checking for any more pain and fixing it immediately. They took care of each other. They loved one another. And that's what always brought them back together. Love is a powerful fucking thing it turns out.

It can make you seemingly stupid things. Like beginning to undress your spouse on your neighbor's couch. That's not a good idea. But love, man. Love conquers all.

"You gotta wear fifty fucking layers when you come to make up?" Mickey huffed tugging at Ian's shirt.

Ian laughed. "How was I supposed to know you'd forgive me?"

"You knew. You fuckin' knew."

Meanwhile, Kevin Ball was just waking up for the day. He cracked his back and his knuckles and his neck and headed to piss when he heard a strange noise from upstairs. In his early morning haze he forgot that Mickey had stayed over the night before, mind automatically going to the thought of an intruder. No one was going to hurt his wife. So, he grabbed his handy dandy baseball bat and headed for the stairs only to wish that his legs had been broken and he'd never had to go through the emotional, mental, and spiritual pain he would go on to endure.

"Oh jesus—Fuck! On my couch? A man's sacred place, you two decide to fuck on my couch?! I didn't even know men could bend that way. Jesus, VEEEE!"

Kev stomped upstairs clearly traumatized leaving Ian and Mickey panting at each other.

"Nice going; you broke Kev." Mickey snickered.

"I'm not the one in a homosexual pretzel now am I?"

"Jeez a man gets a little bendy and everyone becomes a critique. Get off of me you giant 'for he gets Vee to come kick our asses."

"Speaking of getting bendy you uh, wanna head next door? Kinda want you in my bed. See how much you bend in a twin size."

They shared that look of intense longing, Mickey swiping his tongue along his bottom lip. And just like that they were dragging on clothes half-ass and making a dash for the door.

Over at the Gallagher house Fiona was feeding everyone before they headed to the hospital to visit Debbie. Jimmy, Liam, Lip, and Carl were all talking when the front door burst open and two bumbling idiots came tumbling in and up the stairs giggling like maniacs.

"Well that was fast." She murmured.

"I'm not going to get them when it's time to leave. I'm tired of the youngest gets to be scarred for life shtick." Liam insisted.

They all head the slam of the boy's door upstairs and the tell-tale squeak of a mattress. The walls seemed to get thinner every year. 

"Alright shoes and coats everyone. We'll call from the safety of the hospital."

But no one was safe. Before anyone could exit there was some very rhythmic thumping and the very distinct sound of someone asking for it harder. Her poor virgin ears.

"Out! Out! Go!"

She made a mental note to Lysol the boy's room after they left. Men.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Leaving for New York again was rough on Ian. He thought his nephew was the best thing since sliced bread and being away from him sucked. But they had ills to pay, so back to work it was. Mickey on the other hand was struggling with the wounded expression on his husband's face. He tried to hide it, with fake smiles and overly enthusiastic grins, but Mickey could tell. And that left them both hurt. IT was like walking on eggshells.

After a few weeks of the awaked tension between the two of them Mickey turned to the internet looking for answer. Most of it was for women whining that their husbands didn't wanna be dads, which didn't really help much. Despite all the strides in the LGBTQ in society some things still lacked. He didn't have any gay friends to ask or anything like that. For many things Ian and he truly felt like a first for so many things. When he found it he almost exited out immediately. It would never work, he would suck at it and Ian would be pissed. But something caught his eye.

It was one of those success stories where they post the pictures of the kid and talk about how he got out. Young Mickey would've snorted because he knew what that system was like, knew that no one really gave a shit. But according to this kid that wasn't the case. Someone had given a shit, and someone had helped him get out. And what really stuck out was the place where the kid grew up: Chicago.

"Hey you wanna go out tonight? Give yourself a night off cooking?"

"You sure? Wednesday's usually your late night."

Mickey nodded. "Positive. One early night won't kill me. I'll pick you up from work yea?"

Ian's faced scrunched up at this. "Alright, what's going on? Who died?"

"Ay fuck off, no body's died. Just wanna do something different alright?" Mickey smirked.

"Yea, okay. I guess."

"Good. You uh gonna come kiss a guy before work or what?"

Ian shook his head at Mickey's face but kissed him anyway.

It wasn't normal for Mickey to offer to take Ian out. He preferred to stay home rather than eat out. SO, Ian was already suspicious, but when he got the text saying Mickey had set them a reservation for this new fancy restaurant, the red flags went off. He was instantly convinced Mickey was either divorcing him or dying, and neither of these things sounded very exciting. He had a brief moment where he contemplated running away, but then he remembered he was a grown ass man.

By the time they got to the restaurant Ian was sweating bullets and Mickey found it hilarious. If he hadn't thought the poor bastard might have a stroke, he'd pulled it out all night.

"So I've been thinkin . . ."

"About what? What is it?"

Mickey chuckled. "Relax freckles. I've been thinkin' about the whole kid situation."

Ian froze. "Don't."

"Just hear me out. I don't want a baby alright?"

Ian's face, which had dropped at the mention of babies, found a way to drop even further.

"That don't mean I can't be open to other options."

Ian floundered. "What does that mean?"

"Foster care."

"Foster care?"

"Yea. Look, it's temporary, and we could take care of someone who's not gonna shit everywhere. I could . . . I could be into that."

"You could? Could you really Mickey?"

"Yea. That sound like something you'd be into?"

"O—Of course! Are you serious cause if you're joking right now that's really shitty and I hate you." Ian huffed.

"Scout's honor. I thought we could eat and talk about it some. Decided what we both want. I hear that's what adults do."

Ian simply beamed at him and that smile alone told Mickey he'd made the right decision. He was scared shitless of that decision, but he didn't regret it.

They spend dinner discussing the possibilities. Ian has visions of a boy, and Mickey wasn't too upset with that decision. They talked about ages: how young Mickey was willing to go, how old Ian was willing to go. How would school work? Who would drive the kid there? Where would they sleep? Was it financially responsible to even talk about a new home? Would someone stay home with the kid depending on what age they fostered at?

It was a very in depth, mature conversation especially compared to their screaming match in Canaryville. Mickey was willing to communicate and willing to be open with Ian and it resulted in some really beautiful discussion.

"You're sure you wanna do this?" Ian asked as they held each other under the covers later that night. "You don't have to keep making sacrifices for me."

"I'm sure. IF one more kid gets out the system and doesn't have to deal with a Terry or some drunk tellin 'em what they can or can't be, then maybe the word'll be a little better of a place."

Ian smiled running his thumbs along his husband's cheeks.

"Anyone would be lucky to have you look after them. Speaking from experience, you're pretty great."

"Ay, fuck off." Mickey mumbled, cheeks burning."

Ian snuggled deeper into Mickey's arm burrowing them under the covers.

"Thanks . . . for everything you do for me. I don't tell you enough, Mick."

"You're alright, shithead."

"You sure you don't want me to make it up to you?"

Mickey's eyes widened. "I meant . . . how dare you Gallagher, prove yourself by getting on me immediately!"

"Yes, sir!"

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

It's a lot more work than either of them expects. There's documentation and paper work. They each have to be evaluated by their psychiatrists in order to prove their fit to be parents. They go back and forth with a rep for a while before they finally get an in home interview. It's all about seeing the environment the child will be put in, and getting a real feel for the parents.

"Come 'ere." Ian huffed fixing Mickey's collar for the umpteenth time.

Mickey whined. "Ian, I'm fine! They're not gonna reused us for a kid because my collar isn't crisp enough."

"You don't know that—Ugh! Mickey what is going on with your hair?!"

Ian started licking at his fingers and that was Mickey's cue to leave.

"Hey, none of that! I'm thirty five. Jesus we're two white males and we're gay that's gotta count for something. Women eat that shit up."

"Oh my god."

Ian had been driving himself mad trying to prepare them for the meeting. Washing dishes, sweeping and mopping, spraying fabreeze everywhere. The man was in house wife over drive. And Mickey just let him have it, no matter how insane it drove him. But everyone has their limits.

They sit down with woman who asks them about themselves. She digs deep and questions their parenting styles, their reasoning for foster care, and everything else in between. Ian eventually leaves his nerves behind and they just kind of open up to her. Ian tells her how amazing Mickey is, how he's taken care of him his whole life and knows he'd do the same for any kid. Mickey tells her how shitty his childhood was and how he wants to change that for someone, how Ian helped change that for him. They really rehash everything they've been through together.

They have to go through a bunch of training, which, of course is easy for Ian, but Mickey really struggles it. The only meetings they can both get to are always after work or on his only days off and of course he gets upset once or twice. Ian's always there to calm him down though. Sometimes he just hugs him against his will. Other times they step outside so he can smoke in peace and Ian holds his hand until he's ready to go back in. And they always go back in.

When it's all set and done both of them are eager to get a foster child. The "business office" in the lockft already transformed and waiting, they sit down with a case worker to discuss a potential match and the likes of the situation hit a little closer to home than Mickey would like.

"It's a brother and sister. They had a history of domestic abuse in the home. Dad is a drunk and likes to him Mom a lot. Apparently things escalated when the Mother tried to leave with the kids and the son intervened. Mom has been placed in a women's shelter, but currently had no means to take care of the children. That's where you two come. I don't want to rush you at all, but this is an urgent case. Does it sound like something you might be interested in?"

Mickey's hand forms a fist around Ian's. Ian can tell all the emotions it's bringing back up for him. HE's about to tell the lady they'll have to pass when Mickey intervenes.

"Can we see 'em?"

The lady pulls ou two pictures. One of a little boy with dirty hair not too dissimilar form the way Mickey used to wear his, and another a tiny litte girl that shouldn't remind him of Mandy, yet somehow does. They're hair is a chocolate brown instead of jet black, and eyes the same color. But they're seven and six and way too fucking young to be dealing with that kind of shit.

"We'll take them." He murmured.

The lady nods. "Okay. Well, why don't we go meet them first? Follow me."

They're taken to a room where two terrified kids are huddles up in red plastic chairs. The boy had a harsh glare to go along with a black eye, two things that can only be passed down from a mean father. There are dried tear tracks down chubby cheeks that make both of their stomachs turn. They just wanna help.

"Hailey? Michael? This is Mickey and Ian. They're gonna take care of you until your mother gets better. Does that sound okay?"

Michael sends that glare straight at them. Ian smiled at the familiar anger.

"We want to see our mom."

Ian kneels down face open and kind like it always is.

"We're gonna set up a schedule with your mom, so that she can visit you. Every day if you want. Promise. Right now we just wanna get you fed and in a safe place."

He shakes his head. "No. We ain't goin."

Mickey kneels down beside Ian. "Look kid. I get it. Trust me, I do. You're scared and you're hungry and you're tired. You've had a shitty night and a shittier day and you think it's only gonna get worse if you let some strange guys interfere. But it doesn't have to be like that. We're not gonna hurt you. We're not gonna take you away from your sister. There's a bed and a McDonalds down the street and all we wanna do is take you there. I'll make sure you see your Mom first thing in the morning. Just come with us."

Ian looks over at his husband who's just as soft and sweet as cookie dough and smiles. This was such an "I told you so" moment.

The boy peers at his sister who looks cold in her night gown and boots from the night before. They hadn't had time to get anything else, when everything got bad. She nods at him softly, ace hidden in his neck. Michael looked back and forth from Ian to Mickey trying to gauge the situation.

"You'll take us to see our mom in the morning?"

Mickey nodded. "I'll take you myself, man."

It takes more than a little coaxing, but they get out of the office and into the car. They make two stops: one at Walmart for clothes, and another at McDonalds as promised. Mickey gets them to the couch before joining Ian in the bedroom to get things ready.

"Do we bathe 'em? They're fuckin filthy, but what if they don't want us starin?" Mickey asked.

"I figured we'd just make the water and let them do their thing. Sit outside the door in case they need us? You're right they need a bath asap."

He nodded seeming to think about thing as Ian finished taking the clothes out of their bags. When all was done he stepped to his husband, wrapping his arms snuggly around his waist.

"Nice job today by the way. You were amazing." Ian grinned.

"You too. WE might not actually fail at this."

They shared a kiss before heading back to the kids who were just finishing up happy meals eagerly.

"Hey, Mick and I thought you two might like a bath before getting into some new clothes. WE don't have to be there while you take it if you don't want okay?"

Hailey, who had remained quiet thus far, stuck her head out peering up at the red haired man.

"Mommy always stays with me when I take a bath, so I don't get pulled under by the monsters. Would you stay with me?"

Ian smiled. "I'd be honored. Why don't you come with me; I think we have some bubbles around here somewhere."

Mickey and Michael are left on the couch, each with crossed arms and hard faces. It's quiet and Mickey has no idea how to fix this kid before it's too late. He does know; however, that he doesn't want it to be too late.

"I went to juve for the first time when I was nine." He blurted.

Michael, the young boy that he was, took the bait.

"What for?"

"I stabbed my dad with a fork." He nodded as the boy's eyes widened. "HE hit my little sister. She was only seven and he just sent her flying across the room. I had to protect her ya know?"

The little boy nods way too eagerly for Mickey's liking, because he does know; he knows way too well.

The boy peered up at him in wonderment. "Your dad was a bad man?"

Mickey nodded. "He tried to hurt me and my brothers and sister a lot. And sometimes my mom. A lot of the time though I didn't do nothing. You're brave, man. What you did?  Wish I'd been like you as a kid."

The boy's face of carefully built rock crumbled and what was left was a look of sadness and fear.

"It's my fault they called CPs though. What if we're never a family again?"

"That's how I used to think, but you can't think that way. Your mom and your sister were in pain and you helped them. You kept them safe. He was hurting them. And we me and Ian are gonna do everything we can to reunite you guys. You'll be a family again, man; I promise."

Michael nodded resolve completely diminishing as tears pooled in his eyes. Before Mickey knew was happening, there was a sobbing boy in his arms. Seventeen year old Mickey Milkovich would've completely frozen up. Thirty-five year old Mickey Milkovich was minimally better.

Ian came out the bathroom to see his husband giving a tiny boy the rough pat on the shoulder. He smiled. They totally had this.

 

                                                                *3 Months Later*

 

"Mr. and Mr. Gallagher, so nice for you to be here." Jenna, the social worker, smiled.

Hailey and Michael's Mother was there too, looking awkwardly down at her fingers. She'd been super shy with Mickey and Ian due to her shame about the situation. But, she always expressed gratitude for everything. They'd done and that was enough for them.

"No problem." Ian said. "What's this about?"

"Ms. Reed is ready to discussing reclaiming custody of Hailey and Michael."

"Oh…"

Ms. Reed, Sarah, smiled. "Y—Yea. I uh—I've been working at the diner for about a month now. My mom is willing to let us stay with her while I get things together, and get some money. There's a really nice school for the kids. I think . . . I think I'm ready."

Mickey and Ian peered over at each other in silence.

The past three months had been more amazing than either of them could've imagined. Ian had gotten o baby someone the way he always wanted. Hailey was a firecracker and the second she came out of her shell, she ruled that house. They baked together and had sleepovers and built pillow and blanket forts in the living room. It was the best time in the world for him.

And Mickey, Mickey had decided that parenting wasn't the hardest thing in the world. Michael and he seemed to bond over having to grow up too fast, but he tried to do everything in his power to just let him be a kid. They went to the movies and they took them to the park on the weekends. When Mickey would work late he would bring ice-cream or something home for them, just to have Ian complain because he'd already gotten them bathed before bed. Sure, it wasn't gumballs and sunshine all the time, those kids had experienced a ton of shit, but Ian and Mickey had made it easier. Ian and Mickey had made a difference in their lives. And to see them go wasn't going to be easy.

"O—Okay." Ian nodded softly reading for Mickey's hand.

Mickey sighed. "Yea. I mean they're your kids after all."

She smiled wide at them. "Thank you so much. For everything."

"It was our pleasure." Ian insisted. "You've got some great kids."

They reunite Michael and Hailey with their mother. The state covered all of their expenses, so they let them take all the things they'd accumulated during their stay. It feels weird to pack up their stuff, but a part of Ian and Mickey had always known it would happen. When Sarah picks them up Hailey and Michael each run and hug their foster parents, because in the midst of instability and fear, Mickey and Ian had provided a home to bring them back down to the ground.

At the end of the day they made their way into bed without any of the nosiness that came with having two small children in the house. Mickey sniffed and snuggled deeper into Ian's arms no longer used to the quiet.

"Think we should do it again?" Ian asked.

Mickey snorted but hid his face in Ian's neck.

"Yea, okay."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks out sheepishly*  
> I'm so sorry.  
> I wish I had an excuse but I just don't.  
> I suck nuts and life is hard and there isn't a lot of free time to be happy with and write fic.  
> But I'm trying I swear!!!! 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!!


	25. Be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Baby don't you know  
> All them tears gon' come and go  
> Baby you just gotta make up your mind  
> Cause every little thing is gonna be alright"

Ian is forty when they get their first house. It's in a decent neighborhood and it's a foreclosure so it's a fucking steal. It's one of those big, old style looking houses with wood floors in every room. Mickey is the one who modernizes it with the help of some of his designer/construction friends and makes their home look absolutely beautiful. They move in and foster more kids. Some for a few weeks, others for months and months. There's a rhythm that gets established. Life flows seamlessly for a while and all is calm. They go to work and they go out with friends and they help these kids in fucked up situations have some semblance of normalcy. Life is okay.   
And then it's not.

"Good morning." Ian sighed snuggling deep into his husband's chest and peppering the skin with soft kisses.

Mickey couldn't help but squirm at the tickling of his ribs from Ian's lips, but smiled none the less.

"Don't you have a job to get to?"

"I sure do." He grinned.

Red hair disappeared under the covers and Mickey couldn't help but laugh.

"That ain't what I meant Gallagher!"

They didn't have any children to foster at the time, and were instead reveling in the alone time. The shower goes on for too long as they take a rare shower together. Ian cooked breakfast, and Mickey made coffee. They walk to their cars together and all is okay.

"You wanna meet at the bar after work?" Ian asked fixing Mickey's tie for him.

"Sure. You'll get there before me. Order what I like, yea?"

"'Course."

Mickey left work on time for once, ready to settle down with his husband and an ice cold beer. When he stepped inside the bar though, the tension hit him like a ton of bricks. Sitting with Ian and Mandy was a man he hadn't seen in years. Iggy.

"Hey." Ian winced when he noticed him.

Iggy turned. "Mick! Hey, man."

His brother shuffled out of his seat wrapping the shorter man up in a big bear huh. Mickey, confused and still silent, let him. Mandy was silent too staring sadly at the wooden table top with tears in her eyes. Something was up.

"What's going on?" He asked automatically turning to Ian for an explanation.

It was Iggy who ultimately gave it to him.

"Terry's dead."

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

"Mickey you don't have to do this." Ian insisted. "Mick, please, just look at me a second."

Mickey was in the middle of a constant back and forth from closet to suitcase to drawer, back to closet.

He'd been on the edge since they left the bar. Iggy pretty much said it was Mickey's responsibility to come back to Chicago and fix everything. Ian thought that was the furthest from the truth. But, the second they got home Mickey had started packing and hadn't said a word since. They were forty and forty-two years old. It'd taken years of therapy and just plain old trial and error to get them functioning like actual human beings. He was terrified of just how triggering dealing with Terry and the rest of the Milkovichs could be.

Ian waited until Mickey made another trip to the closet, so that he could sit on the suitcase and block the zombie-like packing.

Mickey sighed. "Ian, just move."

"No. Come here." He demanded softly, pulling his husband between his legs.

He wormed his arms around Mickey rubbing soothing circles into his back. Green eyes met blue and some of the tension eased.

"You're not processing this. You know all of the progress you've made in your feelings about Terry. That's a lot of shit for you. Have you even thought about what this could mean for your mental health? You don't have to go back."

"Except for the fact that I do. Iggy didn't come get me because he didn't _want_ to deal with it. He came and got me because he _can't_. None of them can. I'm the only one who can take care of this. I don't have a choice." Mickey insisted.

Ian reached for his hands intertwining their fingers.

"You do have a choice. You always have a choice. If you don’t feel comfortable, don't go. It's as simple as that."

"I—I can't. I'm the one who moved out to live with you. I'm the one who left Chicago. Who left him and them all behind. This, this I gotta do."

Ian peered up at him. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay."

He got up off Mickey's suitcase only to go digging around for one of his own. Of course.

"Gallagher, what in the hell are you doing?"

Ian huffed. "You gotta do this, alright. But don't think for a second I'm sending you back to the shit hole alone. We go together or not at all. You hear me?"

Mickey kept his eyes on his bag to hide the smile that dumb ginger always pulled out of him.

"Yea, okay."

Before they know it they're back in the Southside stepping through the Milkovich household. The nostalgia hits each of them hard and not all of it is good. Mickey feels a mixture of sick and comfort, the same concoction he'd grown up on. Ian stays tensed the entire time, like someone could try to hurt them at any moment. It truly is like stepping back into the past. Everything is the same.

"I'm gonna go put our stuff away." Ian sighed squeezing Mickey's shoulder as he passed.

Mickey wiped his hands over his face trying not to let the nerves get on top of him. Terry Milkovich had died by himself. They said it was a heart attack. The poor bastard's heart couldn't even handle all that anger inside of him.

He sat down and got on the phone with the funeral home. There was so much to do, so much to get handled and he was the only one who could do it. Ian helped. He started cleaning the house like it was physically possible to remove the scum Mickey's family had let seep into the walls. He started cooking, knowing that all of his brothers would show up at some point. Mandy, who had been silent and in her old room since they arrived, accepted his sandwich and bottle of water. They were a fucked up bunch, but they were trying.

Terry had no insurance of any kind, obviously, and that left them kind of fucked in the grand scheme of things. A burial would cost thousands that nobody had.

"Mick we do have some money saved up. If—if you need to—"

"No. That's our fuckin' retirement fund. I got my shit together, took a business class and put some money aside just for my abusive prick of a dad to suck it all dry? Fuck no. That money stays put Ian." He hissed.

"Okay," He murmured softly. "then what do we do?"

Mickey sighed looking down at the numbers scribbled across his pad of paper.

"We need about three grand to get him buried. I figure maybe we can pull out some of the old tricks. Get my brother's to do a couple sells, some schemes. Maybe we can pull it all together."

Ian reached for him suddenly, fingers gripping firmly at the nape of his husband's neck.

"Don't you dare do anything stupid. I will kick your ass if you get arrested or shot. I mean it." He told him stubbornly.

Mickey avoided his husband's eyes, smiling softly. "I promise, shithead."

Ian got up out of his seat appearing behind Mickey's chair and immediately digging into his shoulders.

"You need to rest. Come let me take care of you." He murmured.

Mickey chuckled, breaking off into a groan as the stress began to ease out of him. "You gonna take care of me huh?"

"Yep. Are you opposed to being taken care of in your dead dad's bed, because all the others are taken?"

You take the kid out of Southside . . . but the second you put him back in he'll be as fucked up as before.

"Sounds perfect."

Terry would've rolled over in his grave that night . . . if he could've afforded one. They made love. Sappy, quiet, moaning in each other's necks, love. It was the most liberating Mickey had ever felt. There's something special about loving Ian so openly and passionately in a room so full of hate and disgust. Every thrust tore down a wall in Mickey's chest. That deep form of oppression and guilt instilled in him falls because for the very first time his dad really isn't around the corner waiting to get him. The boogie man is gone. He's free. It's the most effective form of therapy he's ever had.

The next morning Mickey woke up to this obnoxious and beautiful man, kissing his way down his back and shoulders.

"None of that. We got shit to do today." Mickey groaned.

"It's early," Ian whimpered rubbing his hips against Mickey's backside. "Don't neglect me, Husband."

"Need to neglect your ass more often, my ass is still sore man."

"You're getting old. Next thing you know you'll be struggling to keep it up for me."

Mickey snorted shoving at Ian. "Fuck off. Why don't you worry about your dick and I'll worry about mine."

He sighed. "Fine. How about I go make breakfast after jerking myself off in the bathroom like I'm fifteen again?"

"Sounds good to me, pumpkin. Just make sure you clean that shit up." Mickey yawned.

"You're lucky I love you." Ian huffed, getting out of bed.

Thirty minutes later, there are a bunch of grown ass men around the kitchen table, eating Ian's pancakes with their shoulders fully on the table. He watches Mickey struggle with the pancakes, cutting them up into tiny, tiny pieces trying to get himself to eat. He barely manages, but Ian knows how stressed he must be. He lets it go.

They ask him to identify the body and Mickey, the sick bastard that he is, goes. A part of him clenches in fear when he steps into the room ready for the horror movie monster comeback. But, Terry doesn't lurch up from the metal table with a gasp, ready to wreak havoc and pain. Terry doesn't move. And Mickey deflates standing there in confusion at his big, bad Dad looking so . . . small and weak. It's weird to see him in that way. He almost wants him to get up.

"How are you feeling?" Ian asked.

His hands moved over this husband's shoulders and arms trying to be soft, comforting.

"I'm fine."

But it's brute. Staccato. Hiding.

"You don't have to be. I'm here. Even if what you're feeling is conflicting for you. If you feel sad, it's alright Mick. We can talk about it."

Mickey, who had just seen his abusive, homophobic father, also responsible for his rape, wasn't up for the healthy, normal shit they'd been taught in therapy.

He sighed, body slumping heavily in Ian's arms.

"Not right now." He sighed tiredly. "I'm not ready to be a normal person right now. I need to bottle this up. Just for now. Please, Ian?"

"Okay. Yea, that's okay. Let's get out of here."

They leave Terry behind and head to visit Ian's family instead. Debbie and her son are there and Ian smothers him with affection as always. He tried desperately to get Mickey involved, get his mind off things, but everything just seemed too toxic for him. He couldn't cope, yet.

Milkovichs being Milkovichs get the money together. They get the casket and get everything set up for a funeral even though there's no one who particularly cares or misses him. None of them know how to feel. He was the biggest piece of shit on the planet. But, he was their dad. And so that left them in a bit of confusion. Especially Mickey who had, for so long, thought he was done with that part of his life.

The funeral is just them and Ian. Everyone Terry knew either didn't give enough of a fuck to come or were dead or imprisoned themselves.

Mickey hadn't cried yet, or really shown any emotional at all, which worried the fuck out of Ian. He didn't say anything though, just let Mickey do things his way. And his way was not to discuss anything.

The day of the funeral, Ian did his tie up for him and kissed his forehead. Mandy, Mickey, and Ian all held hands as the grave was lowered into the ground. It reminded Ian of their childhood, growing up and all hiding under the covers when their mother passed or when Terry was on a bender. They were just as silent, Mandy crying as Mickey stared on stoically. All the brothers gave each other awkward hugs and squeezed Mandy, the baby and the only girl, high up off the ground. When the funeral was over they all headed for the Alibi, leaving Mickey and Ian behind. Mickey had stood still since the funeral had started and showed no signs of moving any time soon. But that was okay. Ian would stand with him all night, if that's what it took.

When Mickey moves it's to take a breath. This deep dragging breath that fills his body with so, so much air all the way to the top. And when he goes to release there's this wet choking sound. And then the tears come. Ian watches him press his palms firmly into his eyes trying desperately to shove the tears away. But he can't. It all boils over too fast.

"Shit." He whispered. "Shit."

And then a little louder. A little sadder. A little angrier.

"Shit. Shit! Shit Shit Shit Shit!!! SHIT!!!!"

Ian wanted so badly to reach forward, but watched on instead as Mickey finally let some of it out.

Mickey reached into his suit jacket, producing a flask filled with whiskey that he immediately emptied down his throat. The tears came harder now.

When he reaches for his belt Ian really does struggle to stop him, but taking the boy out of Southside can only do so much. And putting him back is really just asking for trouble.

Mickey gracelessly undid the belt, whiskey and tears burning down his throat. He can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, his dad being dead and still tormenting the hell out of him. The fact that there's still emotion left, that he can feel anything at all for him makes him feel worst of all. He wants nothing more than to just leave him behind to rot in the ground. But he can't. Of course. He can't.

He pisses on the grave and throws the flask in too for good measure. Then there's nothing left to do but go to the one person who can pick up all the pieces. The only person who can put him back together again.

"It's okay. I'm here. I'm here, Mick." Ian mumbled letting him collapse in his arms. "I got you."

He gasps into Ian's chest struggling to breathe. It's one of the things they discussed in therapy. They called them panic attacks. You're supposed to find something grounding. So, Mickey tightened his arms around Ian. He listened to his breathing and the steady pounding of his heart until it all settled into a sublet hum, until their heart beats began to beat in sync.

"Sorry." Was all he could muster when it was all set and done.

"Don't. You don't gotta apologize for this, okay?"

Mickey breathed. "Okay."

"Kay? Let's get you out of here."

They spit on the puddle of piss and whiskey before leaving the cemetery hand in hand. They look at it as a bonding experience.

 

*                                                            *                                                             *

 

"How about you take a shower while I start on dinner?" Ian suggested softly.

Mickey nodded numbly shuffling forward.

It was quiet in their home as Mickey showered and Ian cooked. He made the goulash that Mickey grew up on and some garlic bread to hopefully cheer up his husband. He doesn't bother setting the table and just drags the food over to their living room table.

They eat, Ian eats and Mickey pushes his spoon around in circles, and watch tv, Mickey finding warmth in Ian's being the entire time. They snuggle close, silent but for the sound of spoons in bowls and the crunch of the bread. He waits for him, because he's Ian and he's always been good at that. Mickey just wishes he was better at giving him the things he waited so well for.

Mickey looked exhausted, closing his eyes tiredly when Ian ran his fingers through his wet hair. There was so much there, so much emotion just trembling beneath the surface. Ian hated watching him suffer.

"Talk to me, Mick. Please? I don't like seeing you like this."

He sighed letting Ian pull him so that he was lying down; head nestled into Ian's lap.

"Let 'er rip."

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "You want me to fart?"

Ian slapped at him. "No Mickey, Jesus. You know what I mean."

"Ugh. Fine."

Ian muted the television and turned so that he could listen better.

"I don't fucking miss him." He whispered bitterly.

"Okay." Ian nodded. "What do you feel for him then?"

"I feel . . . angry. At him. At myself. I shouldn't care about him. But I . . . I think there's a part of me that misses the dad I never had. And now that he's dead I know he never will be. There's no hope that just maybe he might… It's fuckin' stupid." He mumbled.

"No it's not. We all miss the dads we never got. I hope for a better Frank to come through that door every day. I don't want to; I hate myself for it, but I can't help it. What you're feeling is normal, Mickey."

"He just gets to fucking walk out. He gets to die and we all have to deal with it. We have to pick up the pieces and do his dirty work just like always. I feel like I'm a fuckin' kid again living under my old man's thumb."

He nodded. "I get that. But, maybe we could look at it a bit differently."

"Like how?"

"Well, for one, we're here now. In New York. You never have to visit that house, never have to visit that grave. We can leave Terry completely behind. You can be who you were before we went down there and live just as content as before. Your dad's gone Mick. He's not coming back, and he can't hurt you anymore if you don't let him. You can let him go now."

Mickey sighed. "I fuckin' hope so."

Ian smiled down at him. "I'll help you."

Their fingers lay intertwined on Mickey's stomach and he tightened his fist around freckly fingers.

"We still talking openly and all that shit?"

"You can always tell me anything. It's what friends are for." He smirked.

"Okay…" Mickey breathed playing with his husband's fingers as distraction. "I think that, maybe things got a little on top of me. I've been, I've been really struggling since we went down there and I didn't ask you for help cause I thought I needed to do it on my own. But I just can't cope right now. I needed something to fuckin' control. And I knew one thing I could always control."

"Mhm."

"My food. I haven't. I uh haven't been eating. Since we got to Chicago."

Ian's eyes automatically snapped to Mickey's bowl on the table which was still mostly full. On top of that was mushed up paper towels that no doubt had chewed up food in them. Though his heart broke at the thought of Mickey denying himself the right to eat Ian remained calm. This is what they did now. They tried to behave rationally and calmly with one another. This was something they were constantly working at.

He continued to run his fingers through the raven hair speaking in a soft, soothing voice.

"I can understand why you might do that. And I'm sorry for not paying closer attention. Is there anything I can do, or do you wanna make an appointment at the health center?"

"I uh… I think I'd just like for you to hold me tonight . . . Please."

"Of course."

Ian got Mickey off the couch and into their bed. They kept the lights dimmer, a feature Mickey had installed himself with help from a co-worker, and he really just held him. Arms around shoulders and kisses to the temple. After a while some of the tension began to ease out of his shoulders and he deflated against his husband's chest. The last thought he had was that he was lucky and that he was loved. That was good enough for him.

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Ian woke him up with kisses. The bastard truly only got sappier with every passing year. But, Mickey had gotten some **much** needed rest and was a little more willing to indulge him. Ian straddled his body and was running blunt finger nails along his abs and up over his nipples. Mickey was only human.

He moaned softly. "What are you doing?"

"I was wondering if you'd let me suck your cock and take you to breakfast. Also I wanna go find a book at that book store down the street, support small business you know?"

Mickey peered up at him in wonderment, because this was a real person. Soft green eyes and so much love, no matter what he did. He lifted his hands and left his fingers trail up Ian's arms, along his jaw.

"You don't gotta do that for me."

Ian just smiled. "I know. I want to." He kissed his throat. "Cause I love you 'member?"

Mickey's cheeks warmed.

"Well then I would really like that."

Ian let him lean back, slipping lower and lower down his body and taking his boxers with him. He ran his hands over Mickey's thighs and stomach, his problem areas, and trailed kisses there too.

"You're so beautiful to me, Mickey. Every part of you drives me wild." He whispered.

His teeth grazed his inner thigh loving when Mickey's breathing hitched. He thought it important to show him it wasn't just sex he loved with Mickey, wasn't just penetration that he craved, because all of Mickey was so enticing. He loved showing him that his _whole_ body was what Ian wanted. He kissed and sucked around the flesh paying special attention to every part of his body, but his penis. Mickey's back arched and his hips moved involuntarily. In those moments he didn't think about being self-conscious or if he was bloated or not. He just let himself be loved. And that was all that Ian had ever asked of him.

When he finally got down to it, Mickey's cock was red and leaking desperately. Their eyes met as Ian let the head slip between his lips giving it a generous slurp that sent his man flying.

"J—Jesus Ian." He whined.

Ian slipped Mickey's thighs over his shoulders reaching tentatively to intertwine their fingers. Mickey seeped deeper and deeper into Ian's mouth until his face was nestled into the small patch of black pubes.

He bobbed his head slipping up and down and sucking hard at the head. Besides that first night there hasn't been much time for intimacy leaving Mickey a little backed up. And Ian was going to fix that or run out of air trying.

Mickey's chest was flush with blood and it was getting harder by the second to keep himself quiet. His fingers clenched harder and his thighs tightened around Ian as Ian swallowed the cock in his throat.

Mickey came with a mangled shout Ian working him through it with thick sucks and big, dragging gulps. He was left collapsed in the bed face and eyes shiny with absolute bliss.

"Fuck, you're too good at that." He gasped.

Ian chuckled kissing the spongy head.

"My pleasure. You think we can go try some food today?"

Mickey, both in the foggy haze of an orgasm as well as the thrilling love thrumming through his veins of being wanted, couldn't refuse.

"Y—Yea. I'll try."

"Thank you. I'll go get a towel and get you cleaned up."

They walked to the diner down the street. Mickey liked walking after a meal when he ran into trouble with his disorder because it made him feel marginally better about his meal. Mickey ordered waffles and Ian got French toast with an omelet. He was hoping Mickey might try some more of his food if things went well enough. Mickey had done really well with his disorder. He listened to Ian about clean eating, but was also able to still indulge in the foods he loved. But a huge part of his disorder was about control. It was about needing to have something that he could fully and completely dictate and the only area of his life he could do that in was food. Ian had worried that turning forty would spark some agitation, but of course it was Terry, because why not?

Ian watched Mickey cut his food up into small pieces before taking a bite. He no longer smothered his waffles in syrup, but instead kept a pool on the side for dunking. The glee it did his husband's heart when he dunked that first piece though was astronomical.

"I got a uh call from Linda in social services the other day." Ian smiled.

"Yea? What'd she say?"

"That she was super pleased with our last care that we provided. She said we can start taking on more kids more frequently if we want. There are a lot of teens in foster care that no one's gonna adopt, and with their wrap sheets even foster parents aren't gonna want. I think maybe, now that the house is ready, we could afford to help more kids, don't you think?"

Mickey peered over at this man he'd fallen in love with, with his superman complex and his need to save the world. He was really happy to be with him.

"Sounds good to me, Freckles. Just as long as you don't stop fucking me again." He shrugged biting into a piece of waffle carefully.

"Excuse me?"

"What? Every time we get foster kids you get super weird and stop dicking me down every night like we're old or somethin'. It's borderline neglect, Ian."

Ian's eyes widened. "I do not _neglect_ you. We have plenty of sex Mickey, we just happen to have kids in various states of shock and trauma that need our help. Your asshole cannot be at the top of the list all the time."

Mickey chuckled. "My asshole is always at the top of your list. I'm just saying when we got Hailey and Michael you were afraid to fuck in the shower because you thought they would smell us. Not hear us Ian, smell us."

"We _bathed_ those kids in that tub Mickey."

Mickey's eyebrows rose. "You _came_ on my face multiple times in that tub Ian."

"You're gross." Ian chuckled

"Says the face cummer."

Conversations you have with your spouse, folks.

By the end of the meal Mickey had eaten almost half of his waffles and Ian was perfectly happy with him taking the rest home. He didn't tell him how proud of him he was, because Mickey wasn't that kind of person who really got off on gratitude. But he did wrap his arm around his shoulder as they walked to the book store, simply because it made him uncomfortable and Ian loved making Mickey uncomfortable.

Book stores are fun when you're married and you don't necessarily like people all that much. You can go and do your own thing while your person does their thing and then you go home and you lie in bed together and read these things that you've found. You find stuff you'd never imagine you would find and laugh at shit that's funny or stupid. Not to mention before going to college Mickey had never even been in a book store, and before New York had never gone to one regularly so of course Ian had to get him into that.

In was in this midst of this wonderful, vast and lovely bookstore that Mickey thought it important to take the piss out of his poor husband. In the deep dark nooks and crannies of the shop lied the Sex and Relationships section. And that is where Mickey found his gem.

"Babe, I found some really good stuff on the perspective of foster parents and the foster child. I think it'll be a good read, just to give us some more insight." Ian murmured as he and Mickey sat huddle up in a couple of chairs to share their findings.

"Yea? Sounds good. I found a little something of my own."

"Oh yea, what is it?"

Mickey held the book up over his face to truly allow that moment to sink in for Ian.

"Fifty Ways to Tell your Spouse you're Sexually Unsatisfied."

"Mickey!" Ian huffed knocking the book out of his hands. "I blew you not five hours ago. I swallowed!"

Mickey collapsed in his seat laughing his ass off. Ian had always been very assertive with his sexuality and questioning that was probably like questioning him as a man, or even as person for that matter, which was hilarious to Mickey because it couldn't have been further from the truth.

"You're such an asshole." He hissed snatching his books up and marched off to the register.

"But we have to practice healthy communication Ian! Help me help you help me get me off!"

They walked home in an uncomfortable silence as a very stony and glare-filled trip to the cash register. Ian took brisk, quick stomps as he stewed and Mickey just trudged after him trying desperately not to laugh again. Gallagher took jokes about as well as he gave them, which was to say terribly. However, despite all odds, Mickey rather loved his husband and making him feel bad about himself wasn't really his end goal. So, he stopped him at the door of their home gripping his chin with two fingers and bringing him to eye level, the tall bastard.

"Aye; it was a joke, okay? You're the best I've ever had. Truly a ten out of ten. Would recommend you on Grindr, I promise."

Ian, who had to know he was loved and adored, continued on the front that he was a broken man, and frowned with a pout that rivaled most first graders.

"I have an above average penis, Mickey." He whined with folded arms to boot.

"You sure do, big guy."

"They make dildos to simulate me. And I never come first, not even as we've gotten older. I always take care of you."

"Best sex a guy could ask for; I swear."

Ian sighed peering down at him as his arms unfolded and refolded around Mickey's waist.

"You hurt my feelings, dickface."

Mickey quickly wrapped his arms around the gingerly giant pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm sorry, alright? You're fuckin' perfect man."

And then came the million watt smile that was truly dazzling. Why they never got that fucker to Colgate, Mickey would never know.

"Really?"

"Really, really. The porn we would make together would school the prissy bitches of today."

Ian grinned.

"We sure would."

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *4

 

Mickey was drinking a glass of water after dinner when Ian poked his head out of their room, armed with that dumb puppy look of his. Never a good sign.

"Mick could you come here?"

"Is this another one of your I love Lucky shticks?" He huffed heading to their room. "What'd you break now Gallagher."

Nothing was broken. In fact things were very much intact, they were rock solid even. Ian stood at the food of the bed naked as the day he was born with a camera next to him and a hand wrapped tentatively around himself. Man, if only his body didn't react to Ian like two fucking magnets attracting. It was ridiculous.

"Fuck you doin' Freckles?" He mumbled biting at his lip as his eyes stayed downwards.

Ian hummed. "You said we'd make amazing porn. I wanna test the theory."

Mickey chuckled peeking over at Ian's little set up.

"There a script or something I need to look at?"

"Nope. Just need you to take your clothes off and keep your mouth shut unless my dick's in it."

Mickey raised an eyebrow.

He had a sneaking suspicion any comment about Ian's prowess was about to shattered, along with maybe Mickey's hip.

"You really wanna do this?"

Ian's answer was a searing kiss that he felt all the way to his socks. He moved him steadily towards the bed pressing the button on the already positioned camera. Peeling all the layers off of his husband Ian was left with Mickey in his purest form. That soft, lingering gaze he sent Ian's way. The way he bit his lip and let Ian love him so rough and tender every day. Mickey never hesitated to give himself to Ian, and he loved that so much about him. Because he knew how hard it was sometimes. He knew how scary being loved could be for somebody like Mickey.

"How do you do that?" Mickey sighed towards their ceiling. "Fuck how do you make it feel so good. It shouldn't feel that good."

Ian, who had been mid-suck on a hickey on his inner thigh smiled and nuzzled the skin.

"Cause I fuckin' love you, doofus."

"Yea, yea less talky more sucky Gallagher; this is supposed to be porn not a Nicholas Spark's movie."

Ian couldn't help but laugh before whacking him on the ass.

"Such a fucking smartass."

"We getting into spanking already?" Mickey grinned.

"If you're a good boy you'd be surprised what we could get into."

"Consider me an angel then."

And just like that it was back on.

Ian made his way between Mickey's legs giving kisses and nibbles everywhere. His cock was hard where it dangled against Mickey's thigh and the weight had Mickey reacting in more ways than he knew what to do with.

Ian reached for the lube fingers probing to work him open, which caused Mickey to sigh happily, and then moan as he found that spot.

"Wanna try something." He said, three fingers stretching within his husband.

"W—What?"

"You can't cum until I say so."

"Excuse me?" He spluttered.

Ian used his other hand to give Mickey's cook a rough squeeze.

"You heard me. Don't cum."

And then he swallowed Mickey like it was no tomorrow. Fast, deep, and wet, he bobbed his head creating a beautiful suction. The camera was set off to the side, so it could catch every minute of the assault he had planned for his husband. Just like earlier, Ian's mouth was diabolical and Mickey was just a man, not a machine. Soon his hips began to buck and noises started foaming form his lips that he just knew he was gonna regret, but what could he do? Ian drove him wild.

"Fuck. Almost there.... Yea. Y--Yea Y--DON'T STOP! Goddammit Ian!" Mickey huffed collapsing against the sheets unsatisfied.

Ian, who had pulled off at the last second, smirked. He gave him a couple more tantalizing pumps before switching to slick himself up instead. And that was when shit got real.

He reached for Mickey's legs sliding them up over his shoulders so that he could slide in easily. Mickey groaned as Ian filled him up with one long, steady stroke till he was full. How could Ian ever think he was anything below perfection with that thing? It was a miracle. A thick, long ass miracle. Ian pulled out slow till just that tip rested inside of him before quickly slamming back in with a brutal pace. His hips moved fast smacking into Mickey's ass again and again. It was good. It was gooder than good. That shit was mind blowing

And in all reality it wasn't just Ian that made their sex so great. Mickey was absolutely wonderful too. They knew each other's bodies so well that they could just bring things out of one another that neither of them expected. They made great love together. Plus they found each other to be unbelievably attractive still which helped.

Ian found Mickey's prostate like they were good friends and quickly settled his thrusts against it. He fell forward so that their bodies lined up and rutted his hips in deep dragging circles. Mickey's arms came up to cradle Ian's back as his body shook against the ministrations.

"F—Fuck Ian. I'm gonna cum. Holy shit I'm gonna cum."

Ian kept at it pounding Mickey into the mattress as he pumped at his cock that feel of warmth flooded Mickey's gut and his abs clenched, his toes curled and, and—

"Jesus—Fuck, No! Come back." He cried.

Ian pushed at Mickey's thighs sprawling them out wide so he could see Mickey's dick in all its glory. It was dark red, almost on the edge of purple. When Ian flicked at the head Mickey moaned in mixture of pain and pleasure. Pre-cum leaked steadily down the length and Ian's mouth watered at the sight. This was just as painful for him as it was for Mickey.

They each panted at each other as Ian flipped Mickey over, fingers digging into his hips.

"Wait for me. Then you can cum." He huffed slipping back in.

"Oh my god, Ian."

The pounding got harder, headboard amplifying Ian's thrusts with every passing breath. Mickey couldn't stay quiet if he tried and Ian was right there with him. Nobody was old. Nobody was unsatisfied. They were both completely consumed in that moment.

"So fucking tight." Ian sighed, hips begging to stutter. "Gonna cum."

He flipped Mickey again like it was nothing working his hips deeper with high pitched gasps pouring from his throat.

"I'm gonna cum." Ian gasped locking their bodies together as it all came rushing out.

His hands fisted into the sheets above Mickey's head moaning into the nape of his neck.

"Fuck that's good."

Ian pulled out with as squelching plop groaning at the sight of Mickey's hole. Absolutely beautiful.

"You were such a good boy for me Mickey." He sighed fisting at Mickey's cock. "So good."

And just like that Mickey was there, maybe because he'd been _there_ for the better part of an hour. But the edging only enhanced his orgasm which splattered impressively over his chest and neck.

They collapsed together against the sheets breathing heavy and uneven with the fog of pleasure surrounding them.

"Still unsatisfied?" Ian asked.

Mickey couldn't even move his head but gave Ian the thumbs up.

"Good."

And then he was asleep. What better way to end a sex tape?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waaaaaaat? Did I just post on time for the second chapter in a row? Yasssssss slay me hunty.   
> anyway I like this I hope you like this. Terry is gone and Ian and Mickey can be gay and happy for always and forever right?   
> I just wanted to address that part of his life, cause they're getting older here and well Terry just needed to die, alright? 
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated as always. 
> 
> Love ya!


	26. Adam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is 44. Ian is 42. Their little family is getting a little bigger, but when social services comes to them again, they may just have met their match.

Mickey is 44 when they hit a wall with someone. It was their twelfth time being foster parents and they had a pretty good idea of what they were getting into. But then Adam came along. It was a bit of a hectic time, because they had one girl already, Amy, who was only seven. Her mother was in rehab or something leaving Amy to become a product of the state. Ian and Mickey happily grabbed her up. After about six months though their social worker, Jenna, brought a case they couldn't refuse.

"Adam McClain, sixteen years old.  He's been in foster care since he was eight. He's got a rap sheet as long as I am tall, and he hasn't stayed in any place longer than a month for the past two years. He needs a smaller place, a stable environment where he can just feel whole for a while."

They didn't even have to think about it.

When they went to pick him up Amy was with them, donned in her sparkly pink dress that she loved, and clinging to Ian's hip. She had a picture in her hand that she'd made for him and was excited to have another boy wait on her hand and foot. She would quickly find out that Adam wasn't exactly interested.

He had on a jacket with a hood to cover his face and one plastic bag with all his belongings. That was the norm for the kids they got and it never ceased to aggravate Mickey or Ian.

"Adam? I'm Mickey. This is Ian, and this is Princess Amy. Life will go much smoother for you if you call her Princess Amy, trust me." He smirked.

Adam merely sniffed. "Whatever, man."

Ian smiled anyway. "You hungry? We're a breakfast foods kinda family and there's this great place we were gonna take Amy to."

Adam kept his hands fisted in his pockets, and a near perfect sneer on his face.

"I ain't your family, so let's just get this gig on the road."

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Well at least you'll be pleasant."

They got him into the car and home, where he instantly slammed himself up in his room without another word.

Ian and Mickey shared a look, but Amy was oblivious.

"Can we go get pancakes now?"

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"Go get Amy ready for her bath, I'll take the Grinch some food." Ian grinned kissing Mickey's cheek.

Upstairs at the end of the hall Ian knocked at the door listening to the soft sounds of music coming out. When he opened the door Adam was sitting on Ian's laptop listening to some techno metal something.

"You guys have like nothing to snoop in."

Ian grinned. "Sorry to disappoint. There's a great sex toy chest in our room if that makes you feel any better."

"Ugh… it doesn't. At all." He winced.

"Sorry, again. Brought you food. You like pancakes?"

"I'm a waffle guy."

Ian beamed tossing him the box. "Good. Enjoy."

And sure enough, there in the box were waffles.

"There's a bathroom across the hall where you can shower and do all that stuff. Mickey and I are at the end of the hall if you need us. Tomorrow we'll go get you clothes, make you feel more comfortable, you know?"

"Whatever."

"Okay man. Try not to go snooping too much. Mickey's a pretty private guy, and we're still working on his temper."

When he left the room and headed towards Amy's bedroom Mickey was there struggling with a wet, naked child.

"Amy get over here, no one wants to see your naked butt!"

She giggled continuing to run away from him.

"Catch me, Mickey, catch me!"

"You're turning me grey, kid." He chuckled.

He caught her at the closet snatching her up by her waist and tossing her playfully on the bed. Ian smiled warmly at them as she giggled and squealed in childish delight. Watching his husband dress her was adorable and warmed his heart to the core.

"Missy are you giving Mickey a tough time?" Ian grinned picking up the footie pajama-clad child.

She laughed. "I was just kidding Ian, promise!"

"mmm I don’t know Mickey, what do you think?"

"I think we should eat her."

"Nooooooooo!" She gasped legs and arms flailing.

They each reached to take playful bites out of the little girl. B the time they were finished she was red faced, tired, and happy.

"You wanna watch a movie before bed half pint?"

"Yes, please!"

She ran off downstairs to search for a movie leaving her foster parents to wrap their arms around each other in the short moment of silence.

"How can you not wanna have my babies when you're so good at raising them?" He sighed.

Mickey chuckled. "I'm gray enough as it is man."

"Oh don't remind me. I've been waiting for the salt and pepper look. You know how sexy you're gonna look? Like John Stamos but with a fat ass. I will never leave you alone."

"I can't believe I married you."

Ian smiled softly. "Me neither. You're really good at this though."

"We'll see about that. Right now we got a sixteen year old who seems hell bent on hating us."

"He's been in the system half his life, Mick. Give him some time; he'll come around. 'Sides we're awesome."

"Fuck yea we are. Now let's go before we end up watching that stupid fucking movie with the dogs again."

Ian laughed as they headed for the stairs. It was a goof night.

The next morning Ian woke up to Mickey getting ready for work. He was pulling on a pale blue dress shirt and working at the buttons to get everything smooth. Ian had the day off, but big-time corporate building supervisors don't get the same luxury. That doesn't mean they don't get other luxuries though.

"Husband." Ian yawned reaching out blindly. "Come hither."

Mickey chuckled, rolling his eyes as he climbed back into bed to straddle his husband. Ian was positively adorable in the morning with sleep still in his eyes and stubble all along his face.

"I've gotta get the kid to school, corn ball."

"Aren't you the one who used to feign neglect whenever we had kids in the house?" He mumbled hands curving over Mickey's slack-clad ass.

"If I remember correctly there's video evidence of that almost killing me."

Ian grinned as Mickey gave a subtle shit of his hips, lining them up perfectly.

"You woke up eventually. Besides, danger makes life worth living."

"Yea? Well you're gonna test the theory if I end up with jizz on another pair of my slacks. Fucking dry cleaners thinks I'm some kind of sex fiend."

"Bring your mouth down here and let me practice my aim then."

Worst. Husband. Ever.

Mickey and Amy were late to school that morning.

Ian, after a post-coital nap, made breakfast for him and Adam before going to wake up the teen. He was donned in the same clothes Ian'd left him in, sprawled out against the covers like a starfish. Apparently bathing was too good for Adam. At least the waffles seemed to have been eaten.

"Hey. Hey, sleepy head, time to get up."

Adam simply groaned and rolled over.

"Ah dude you're about to make me turn into my sister and that is something I've been avoiding my entire life. Get up, man."

But after several hard attempts, Adam still didn't stir. Somewhere in Chicago Fiona Gallagher was cackling manically with revenge.

"Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you."

And with the strength of a personal trainer/wanna be army man Ian shoved Adam onto the floor.

"Bro, what the fuck?!" the teen gasped after being startled awake.

"What the fuck is right. My chocolate chip waffles are getting cold because of you. Come eat. We got shit to do today."

Adam stared gobsmacked as Ian left the room calmly. Never before had he had a foster parent curse casually in conversation like he did, without a smack to his head or a bottle of alcohol in their hand. What he would go onto learn was that Ian and Mickey were truly a different breed of parent. But, for now, he was just wary and confused.

"Here" Ian murmured putting a plate in front of the wary teen. "You like milk or are you more of a water person? We even have apple juice too. It's supposed to be Amy's but I won't tell if you don't. I also make a mean smoothie, but Mickey doesn’t like them cause there's more kale than fruit so…"

Adam stuttered. "W—Water's fine."

Ian handed him a glass before plopping down across from him.

He talked happily between bites of food. "We're gonna go get you some clothes today. Something you can wear every day besides that one outfit. I don't know what the kids are wearing now adays, but we'll figure it out. And then we'll go over to the high school, get you enrolled."

Adam snorted at that. "I don't do school."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "Bad parenting."

Ian laughed. "Good one; I know what that's like. Luckily you got two drop out and re-enrolls to help you out. Mick went from not finishing junior year to being the first in his family to go and graduate college."

"Well super for you." He squealed sarcastically.

Ian sighed and pushed his plate away.

"Look Adam. I know life's been shitty for you. I read the case file, and I know that I can never do anything to understand the gravity of some of those situations, but I'm here and I'm trying. I wish Mickey and I could've gotten to you sooner ya know? We don't want you to have a hard time here, at all. We want you to feel safe and happy, and just try to ease you into a semi-normal life. That's not a lie or some scam; we truly want the best for you. I get it, you're an action over words man, and it's gonna take some time, but the asshole routine is getting old, fast. You're here with us for now and there's nothing you can do about it. You can make the best of that and enjoy having someone who gives a fuck, or you can sabotage yourself further and make sure you're completely miserable. It's up to you."

Adam immediately got uncomfortable, whether that was because of what Ian said or how he said it who knows. Regardless he stayed quiet for the rest of breakfast.

When Ian came downstairs ready to leave though, Adam had showered. It was a start.

*                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"This is what people wear today?" Ian asked skeptically.

Adam nodded. "People pay to look like bums. What can I say, we're a fucked up generation."

"But there's so many holes… Why would you want holes in your jeans?"

"It's edgy. Look can I get em or not?"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Calm down. Go try them on and I'll decide if they're worth the thirty dollars."

Adam huffed but marched off to the dressing rooms leaving Ian to call for a little reinforcement.

"Hello?"

"Hey. How's mission impossible going?"

"Would you stop calling our foster child mission impossible?"

Mickey chuckled. "I'm kidding. Everything okay?"

"We're fine. He's trying on clothes now. I think I might be starting to get through to him. He's just a teenager; we have to be a little patient."

"You were always better at that than me. You pickin' Amy up from school today? I'm fuckin' swamped."

Ian smiled. "You're cute when you're busy. Yea, I got her."

"Good. Keep me updated on the kid okay? Make sure he'd doing alright here. That case file was scary, man."

"Yea I know. I'll keep you posted. Love you."

"Love you too."

Adam came out in the jeans and went to stand in front of the mirror. Ian caught the small smile on his face, and it reminded him of the first time Mickey and he had gone shopping for their first home. He looked happy. It made Ian wonder when the last time he'd gotten clothes from an actual store was, if ever. And he knew then that he would purchase them.

They bought more clothes, Ian spending way too much money, but it was the first time Adam smiled since he'd gotten there, so all was okay for now.

It was one the way out of the store that they were stopped by a security guard.

"Excuse me, gentlemen." The man said.

Ian nodded. "Yes, sir?"

"I have reason to believe this young man may have lifted something from the store."

Ian's eyes widened. "No. No, I'm sorry; I think you're mistaken. He didn't take anything."

"I'd like to check none the less, sir."

Adam became silent, even as Ian defended him.

Ian, completely on Adam's side and appalled that after such a good outing this bullshit was happening, wiped a hand over his mouth in agitation.

"Adam, just show him, so we can go, okay?"

He looked up at him with hesitant eyes and Ian gawked as he pulled a watch from his sweatshirt pocket.

"Fuck," Ian muttered. "Sir, I—I don't know what to say."

"We'll call it an accident this time. But next time won't be nearly as lenient."

"Thank you, so much." He smiled turning to glare at Adam. "Walk. Now."

It was a silent ride to the high school, and still silent as Ian filled out the necessary paper work to get Adam enrolled. It was a public school, but still the best academically they could find in the district. Though Ian wasn't so sure that would matter with Adam. He was beginning to doubt any and all progress he'd thought they'd made. Adam, on the other hand, kept staring at him in confusion because for the first time his foster parent had gone to bat for him. And when he found out that he had in fact done it Ian had this look on his face, a look of almost . . .  disappointment. No one had ever cared enough about him to be disappointed.

"Mr. Gallagher, Adam here will have to take credit recovery to graduate on time. He's already behind." The guidance counselor explained as they went over his schedule.

Ian merely nodded. "He'll do it."

"Aye, you ain't my dad; you can't just make decisions for me."

"He'll do it." He repeated in such stunning finality that Adam didn't comment again on the subject.

He was given books and a locker, and she showed him where all his classes were before they left to pick up Amy from the first grade. And still Ian had yet to say anything about the shoplifting. It made him uncomfortable, like he didn't know what was coming. So, he tried again.

"Look man, I don't know what you expected. I'm a piece of shit from the wrong side of the tracks and that's all I'm ever gonna be."

Ian snorted. "That's bullshit. You wanna use your sob story for the rest of your life to explain why you never did anything? Why you never made anything of yourself? That's pathetic. There's kids who have it tougher and don't give up. You have a chance, right now, and you're throwing it away, trying to get me to give up on you, so you can have someone to blame. That's not gonna work. I'm always gonna expect more from you, whether you like it or not. Because I know you're better than what you've been given. You deserve better. Mickey and I wanna give you better. But if you fuck around and throw that all away, that's on you. Not us."

Taken aback didn't begin to describe what Adam felt. But, he kept quiet nonetheless, keeping his head down for the rest of the ride.

When Ian arrived to pick up Amy from school it seemed that his stress for the day was far from over, because she was crying and ran for the only safety she knew; Ian's arms.

"Hey, monkey, what's wrong?" He cooed softly.

She simply cried harder shoving her face in the confines of Ian's chest.

"Okay. Not ready to talk about it; I understand. Let's get you out of here huh?"

He got Amy into the car and took the kids out for ice cream. Because what can't ice cream fix?

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

Mickey came home late; sore, tired, and hungry. Ian was waiting for him in the kitchen immediately going to heat up leftovers for him. After a quick change of clothes they sat at the table together so that he could catch Mickey up on the happenings of today.

"So, Adam tried to shoplift today."

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "The fuck for?"

"I think he's acting out in some sort of lame attempt to get use to give up on him. He thinks if we give up on him it'll excuse his behavior. I can tell he doesn't quite know what to make of us though."

"Whatever the fuck it is, we gotta nip that shit in the bug quick. We used to steal to survive, cause there wasn't a choice. I'll be damned if I work nine to ten every day to have a kid of mine steal."

He kept eating at his food before eventually catching on to the silence and peering over at his husband whose face was all weird and smiley.

"What?"

"You said a kid of yours. You really see them that way?"

That Gallagher. So sappy.

"Course I do. They're our foster kids, Ian... Temporary or not. Still ours."

Ian stumbled out of his seat with a grin climbing to straddle Mickey's lap.

"I'm eating, jackass." He huffed.

"That was the sexiest thing you've ever said to me."

Mickey grunted. "You're so weird."

"No, no, but there's something I wanted to talk to you about and it kind of involves that."

"Can I eat and listen?"

He told him about Amy. After a lot of gentle coaxing and a double scoop of chocolate fudge, he'd learned that they'd talked about family in class that day. The teacher asked them to draw a picture of their family and write a little story about them. But when Amy had gotten up to share the kids had been confused by words like foster parent and two men. They saw no Mommy, saw nothing that matched their "normal" views. As far as the LGBTQ community had come, there was always room for improvement. The class told her her parents didn't count, and Amy, sad and defeated, had cried in Ian's shoulder for it.

Mickey sighed pushing his food away. "What'd you say to her?"

"I didn't really know what to say. I mean I told her that we love her and she's special to us no matter what we do, whether her mom has custody of her or not. But, as far as parents go what do we tell her? We're not . . . technically her parents, Mickey."

"I—I know. But, we're all she's got right now. So, maybe we just tell her we're her guardians. We explain that we are a family, just a special kind. Dress it up so she thinks our family sounds cooler than a normal one. We haven't heard shit from her mom since we got her, anyway."

Ian nodded. "And what should we do if we never hear back from her?"

Mickey sighed. "Then I guess you get what you always wanted."

"You mean?"

"'Course I do. I'd never let that little girl go."

*                                                                                             *                                                                                             *

 

It was the weekend, and everyone was sleeping in. After a long week of struggling to adjust Mickey and Ian were just ready to relax with the family. Mickey was standing at the stove with Amy on his hip, which Ian found absolutely tantalizing. He smiled at the back of his boxer-clad husband wrapping his arms around both of them from behind.

"What's for breakfast, guys?"

"Daddy-Mickey's making pancakes in Mickey mouse shapes."

Ian's eyes widened at that and Mickey, himself, seemed to choke on his own spit.

"W—What?"

"Uh…. Monkey why don't you go see if Adam's hungry." Mickey suggested.

She crawled down out of his arms quickly doing just that with an almost musical stance to her step.

"What the fuck was that about?" Ian asked.

Mickey winced. "I just told her what we talked about. And I might have said titles don't matter and we might as well be her dads cause we're parenting her right now. I didn't think she was gonna actually run with it."

"Oh God." He sighed. "I guess if she's happy and content then that's all that matters."

Amy came dancing back into the kitchen with a slow moving Adam walking zombie-like into the room. His head hung low and when he sat down at the table it toppled back till he was just staring up at the ceiling. When Ian walked by he peered at the boy curiously, wondering just what in the hell was the matter with him. He reached to check pull at one of the teen's eyelids and was met with fire-red eyes.

"Are you high?" He gasped.

Adam sighed. "Not quite. Give me a minute."

Mickey dropped his spatula in a state of shock.

"You been in my weed?!"

At the same time Ian was saying:

"It's only ten o'clock in the morning!"

"Mickey!"

"Ian!"

"Shhhhhhhh." The young boy hissed. "Why are you so loud?"

"Oh great; he's hung over too." Ian muttered.

Mickey reached for the spare pan on the stove and proceeded to clang it loudly against the stove causing Amy to giggle in glee, and Adam to groan pitifully.

"Now that that's settled Amy why don't you go watch some cartoons while we talk to boy wonder over here."

The small child merely sighed as if disciplining their other child was an inconvenience to her.

"What about my pancakes?" She huffed with her tiny feet stomping on the ground.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Fine take your pancakes with you."

After a little juggling, the two men waited for the sounds of manic laughing in the living room, before taking a seat with Adam. He explained that he hadn't in fact smoked Mickey's weed, but had instead snuck out to a party and hadn't come home all night. This freaked Ian out beyond belief because it meant their kid had been out all hours of the night, and neither of them had known about it. Before he could even lay into him about it though, Mickey spoke up shocking them all into silence.

"You're not gonna go that again. You go out to a party we expect to know where it's at. I don't need all the gory details; I don't expect you to rat anybody out, but when shit goes down you're gonna need somebody. And that somebody is me or Ian. When you're shitfaced and have no idea how to get home I'd rather you wake me up then take a gamble and see if you'll make it home. I didn't have anybody to give a fuck when I went out. Ian had people who gave too many fucks. I don't know what kind of people you had in the past, and quite frankly I don't give a fuck. We're gonna care for you whether you like it or not. So you got a choice. Either accept that fact that we're the kind of people to let you go out as long as we know where and as long as you're responsible with it, or spend the rest of your high school career locked up in your bed room with barred windows. I know a guy." He shrugged.

Adam, who was still very much hung over, just groaned and let his head fall against the table.

"How can you two possibly be this optimistic?!"

Mickey snorted. "You live with this fucker long enough and it's bound to rub off on you."

Ian merely grinned and got up to finish breakfast, placing a kiss on his husband's head. He made sure to turn on his Sunday playlist so that it could blast through the speakers Mickey had gotten installed shortly after they moved in. Mickey and Amy found Adam's misery absolutely hilarious. Like foster parent like foster child.

*                                                                                                             *                                                                             *

 

"Ian get the fuck off of me!"

"But baby you're so tense."

"I'll show you tense the next time you come near my ass if you don't let me go."

They were wrestling in bed, because Mickey was married to a man with the mental capacity of a five year old, and one of them was definitely having more fun than the other.

"Gigantic fuckin' giraffe, I swear."

There was a knock on the door that should've shocked Ian into loosening his hold but did absolutely nothing. Instead he help him closer, legs tangling with his as he grinned at his squirming husband.

"Come in!"

Adam opened the door softly peering in at Mickey sitting grumpily between Ian's legs and Ian just as happy as can be. His foster parents were fuckin' weird. They were so…happy.

"Hey, how was school today?" Ian asked finally allowing Mickey to break his hold and sit next to him.

Adam shrugged. "It was…It was alright."

"That's good."

"What's up man?" Mickey asked sensing Adam's discomfort.

"I—I was just wondering if…. Maybe I could go take the test to get my permit."

"Like for driving?"

Adam nodded.

It was the first time he'd asked for anything since he got there. It was progress. And Ian latched onto progress like a newborn to their mother's teet.

"Sure. Have you studied for it? I could take you some time after school." Ian offered.

"Yea." His lips twitched like he might be capable of a smile. "I think I'm ready."

"Cool, we'll go tomorrow. Maybe Mick can show you how to drive this weekend? He taught me everything I know." Ian said beaming at Mickey.

Mickey chuckled. "And it was hard fuckin' work. If you're any better than him you'll be amazing."

"Hey, jackass I'm a good driver!"

"Sure thing, sweet pea."

Adam snickered softly before retreating back to the safe confines of his room.

They'd been struggling with Adam since he'd arrive, and finally things were in a somewhat calm middle ground. Adam didn't do everything in his power to get Ian and Mickey to ship him back to social services, but it also hadn't seemed like he was trying to fit in at all either. Getting his permit was the first thing he'd done outside of school since he'd arrived. Still, every day Ian and Mickey tried to be understanding. They asked him to join all their family activities, usually the ones dictated by a certain princess, and even when he said no they didn't take it to heart. They remembered being teenagers, unfortunately, and neither of them could find it within them to blame the kid. That was the easiest, hardest part of being a parent. You remember being a teen, or you're in for a hell of a ride.

"You got this." Ian grinned as they headed inside the dmv. "And if you don't? Just remember I didn't get my license until I was in my twenties. Didn't stop me."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Are you giving me permission to ride dirty?"

"Hell no." He chuckled cupping him playfully upside the head.

After a long wait of numbers being called out and people leaving either cheering or sulking, it was Adam's turn.

Ian watched him go over and sit down at the computer; he wasn't sure who was more nervous. He didn't want them to go back even further in time. The thought of Adam retreating even deeper into his shell after finally sticking a pinky toe out was pretty nerve wracking. He didn't want him to be disappointed about not passing the first time and then take that even deeper and revert back to thinking he couldn't make a life here.

Ian: I'm nervous Mick

Mickey: About what?

Ian: What if he doesn't get it? He's gonna go back to hating us.

Ian peered over at Adam who was deep in concentration while his husband worked to ease his woes.

Mickey: I don't think he's decided to not hate us yet Freckles. Just give the kid a chance. He might surprise you.

Ian: -_- when did you get all optimistic?

Mickey: When I married you…

Ian smiled down at his phone completely forgetting about everything.

Mickey: And stop making faces with your slashes and use a goddamn emoji like a normal person, shithead.

Ian: Love you

Mickey: Yea, love you too

When Adam came over to Ian he was still smiling down at his phone like the idiot he was.

"How'd it go?"

And suddenly Ian wasn't the only idiot in the room.

"I passed."

"Look at you! Good job, man."

And he hugged him, because Ian's a hugger, and it was totally a moment for them.

Adam walked out a permitted driver and that smile on his face didn't fade. It was truly the turnover.

That weekend Mickey took him to an abandoned parking lot and taught him the basics of driving. Mickey was grumpy due to the early morning, but like Ian, and everyone else in his life really, Adam found his anger comical. Instead of getting pissed off though he was just happy the kid seemed to be interested in something for the first time.

"So, Ian's bubbling personality finally getting to you?" Mickey asked as they drove home.

He shrugged. "Kinda. I don't know. You guys are just so nice and happy all the time. Makes me feel like a dick for being mean."

"Tell me about it. Jackass pisses me off always being so excited. He's lucky I love him. But don't let the red hair and smile fool you, when he gets angry Gallagher can be vicious. It's the Irish in 'em I think. You'll see."

"You guys are from Chicago though right? All your family must miss you."

"We switch off. Ian's family usually comes up here or we'll go down there. They're big on that kinda thing seeing as how there's like thirty of them. I'm sure you'll meet them at some point."

"But what about your family?" Adam asked.

Mickey shrugged. "You met Mandy. I got grandparents that I met for the first time when I was in my thirties. My brothers aren't worth shit; my mom died when I was a kid, and my bastard of a dad is finally rotting in the ground too. All my family's right here."

Adam peered over at him with inquisitive eyes the way a kid can only really do. It was like he saw through him, like he knew that Mickey considered him family.

"You and your dad didn't like each other?"

He snorted. "That's one way of saying it."

It was quiet for a minute before Adam gazed at him.

"My dad didn't like me neither."

Mickey met his eyes. They'd read the case file, but Adam had never opened up about it himself. They'd figured it was just his shit and he didn't wanna share.

"He hit you a lot?"

Adam nodded mutely. "Used to use my back as an ashtray."

" _Jesus_."

He shifted in his seat tugging his shirt up to his shoulders so that Mickey could see the welts. They were dark, faded lines, sometimes in jagged shapes or piercing dots. Some were a light red and others still dark brown. All of a sudden he was taken back to a sleepover he'd had as a kid with this dumb kid next door. He remembered him touching Mickey's wounds and feeling sad and angry _for_ him. And he thought about the fact that Adam had never had that. He'd been all alone.

Mickey waited until they were at home, pulled up in the driveway, before he said anything. With the car off, the silence was awkward and Adam sat twitching as if he'd done something wrong.

"Look kid, there's nothing I can say that can take away the burden of having a piece of shit for a dad. People have been doing it to me for years and I know it never really goes away. When your dad treats you like shit your whole life, you start to believe him. But we're not shit. We deserve just as much as anyone else, we just gotta reach out and take it. Now I took mine, and I want you to promise you'll take yours too, alright? Whether it's a girl or a boy or some job in bum-fuck Africa. If it makes you happy? Do it. We deserve to be happy." 

Adam stared at him glossy eyed but nodded with a shaky head.

"Good. Now let's go make Ian cook for us while we sit on the couch and do nothing, shall we?"

Adam followed behind Mickey on their way into the house. He watched Mickey take off his jacket and catch Amy as she jumped at him. He watched the way Mickey smiled and kissed her cheeks propping her up on his hip as Ian came for him. He watched them kiss and saw the way Mickey's body softened at the touch. He saw how truly happy and safe Mickey felt there. And for the first time in his whole life, Adam thought maybe he could have that too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I'm a day late, but i didn't get off work till 11 so bite me.   
> I'm really loving where this story is going, and I think watching Mickey and Ian try to be good people and good parents is just a really interesting thing to dive into. I also like to connect them. I think the reason they make such good foster parents is that foster children often times go through shitty things, shittier than we can ever imagine, and some one like Mickey or Ian can connect to them easier because they may not know what it's like completely, but they have a pretty good idea. Plus I really wanted them to have a little girl who dictated their lives and was confident and sassy and adorable. So yea. 
> 
> comments and kudos are always appreciated.   
> And in light of everyone deleting their fics left and right, which I don't even remotely understand (truly like what a waste of your time and effort and is just kind a cruel, shitty thing to do imo) but to each their own, I just wanna thank you guys for sticking with this long ass story. I don't plan on ever deleting these fics whether I remain in the fandom or now. I wrote them to put them out, for people to enjoy, which none of you can do if I take them down. I know I'm not a big person in the fandom or whatever and my fics don't really matter, but if even one person reads it three or four years from now I'd like them to have the opportunity.   
> That is all. 
> 
> -BYE!


	27. Love Me Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy is 8 when Ian and Mickey find out her mother isn't coming back. When it comes time to make a decision for the family everyone may not be happy with it. Tensions rise and it turns out there feelings may not be the only thing in jeopardy, but a marriage as well.

Amy is eight when she finds out her mother isn't coming back. She has a princess themed party—again—and Ian goes full out despite Mickey's very serious demands against it. Her entire kindergarten class shows up, and she really is the princess of it all. The boys take their swords _and_ princess crowns and have a ball. There's a hilarious, hidden picture of Mickey in a pink crown that Ian took too. The entire affair is perfect and everyone has a blast. But then reality hits.  

"Mr. and Mr. Gallagher, thanks for coming in." Their social worker smirked.  

They nodded.  

"What's up."  

"Well it—it's about Amy. Her mother, more specifically."  

Ian's face fell. "She wants her back, doesn't she?"  

"Quite the contrary. She has decided she no longer wants to be Amy's parent." 

"The fuck?!" Mickey snapped. "What does that even mean, how can someone just decide not to be a parent? That's not how shit works. She's a little girl, not some toy you can throw out when you're bored."  

Ian grabs Mickey's hand to comfort him.  

"I absolutely agree. But as of right now she's no longer in the state, and our options are limited."  

"So, what does this have to do with us?" Ian asked.  

"Well there are some options. You can continue to foster Amy and nothing will change. Or, you could adopt."  

"Adopt?" They said in hushed unison.  

"Yes. As long as you're her foster parents her parental rights are intact should she ever chose to use them. If she were to come back in five or ten years and wanted Amy back, she technically could." 

Ian's eyes flittered over to Mickey who was staring at the woman incredulously. He was reminded of the conversation they'd had about their kids and he couldn't help but feel excited. Because Ian was all about titles, and dad trumped foster dad tenfold.  

"You don't have to decide now. I would never ask you to do that. I just wanted you to be aware, and I thought it better to do in person." 

 Ian nodded.  

"Thank you."  

That night after dinner, homework, and baths, there's a silence in their home. Mickey was tired from work, Ian was tired from work, but aren't adults always tired.  

"Mick?" Ian whispered.  

"Now?" He asked knowingly. 

"I think so." 

Mickey grunted rolling over so that they were facing each other. 

He smiled at him and kissed Mickey on his nose.  

"I love you." 

Mickey grinned. "What's that gotta do with anything?"  

"I would love to raise a kid with you." 

"We're in our forties, Ian. Mid-forties for some of us over here."  

"And? Forty is the new twenty with our life expectancy. Plus, we're gonna foster kids the rest of our lives anyway; what's one that stays with us still she's eighteen?"  

"The rest of our lives huh?"  

Ian nestled deeper into the bed till their heads knocked together softly.  

"Yep. I got it all planned out, Mick. You'll build us a big ole house, add onto to this one. And when we're old and wrinkly we'll invite all our kids back to the house. Our family. It'll be wonderful. We'll get to see all the lives we changed. It'll be our legacy."  

Mickey looked over at his husband with his dumb dopy smile, and his bright, wonderful eyes. He was beautiful.  

"Your head is such a badass place, you know that?"  

Ian smiled snuggling deeper. "My fucked up head?"  

Mickey nodded kissing his forehead. "Your head is beautiful."  

"Thank you." 

"No problem."  

They flipped off the light and settled into bed for the night before Ian realized Mickey hadn't actually answered his question. 

"Mickey?"  

He sighed. "Yes, Ian?" 

"Can we keep her?"  

Somewhere in the dark he rolled his eyes.  

"I don't think that's the question. The question is if she wants to keep us. Now get your warm ass over here and cuddle."  

*** 

 

Something was up. Adam could tell the minute he smelled waffles. Ian only made waffles when something was wrong. Like the time he's invited Mandy and her friend back to the house after a workout and Mickey caught them stretching together. Although, in Mickey's defense, they'd been sat on the floor, legs and junk sprawled out wide, pulling each other into these weird stretching poses. The dude was also totally ogling. But, they'd disappeared for an hour or two after breakfast, Ian more than likely dicking Mickey into unconsciousness since the older man was out for the count after. Adam grabbed his backpack and headphones just in case upstairs became a sex zone. His foster parents genuinely loved each other and it was absolutely gross.  

Amy skipped to the table in a pretty brown and pink polka dot dress with her new sparkly pink leggings. The girl had long brown hair to her butt, and crystal clear brown eyes to melt the heart of anyone who dare look at her. She was honestly a beautiful girl. And the fact that freckles donned her skin like cinnamon on a cookie didn't hurt either. 

She hopped straight into Ian's arms like she did every morning to the two men who took care of her, and kiss his cheek happily.  

"Hey monkey, did daddy Mickey get you dressed?"  

She shook her head dramatically. "Nope! I did it all by myself. Daddy Mickey says he was busting heads by the time he was eight. I asked him what that means and he wouldn't tell me though."  

Adam snorted into his waffles earning a warning glance from Ian.  

"Of course he did. Why don't you go have a seat, okay? We got some stuff to talk to you about."  

"Okay."  

They waited for Mickey to come downstairs all dressed and ready for work. Adam peered suspiciously between the two while Amy seemed to dance obliviously in her chair; eating waffles, and humming to the beat of her own drum. 

Mindless chatter ensued for a few minutes as Mickey and Ian exchanged their good mornings and kisses. When they shared a look and Mickey gave a swift nod, Adam knew his senses had been right. Something was totally up.  

"Hey Amy," Ian sighed. "Can we talk to you for a minute?"  

Amy continued to kick her legs and eat her waffles but nodded.  

"Uh huh."  

"Well, we talked to the nice lady at the social work place? And it looks like maybe your mom isn't gonna be okay to take care of you for a while."  

She peered up at the two men with wide eyes and a confused expression on her face.  

"How long?"  

Ian winced. "Uh, well . . . maybe not at all, sweetie."  

It took a minute for it to dawn on her, though Adam had already caught on and was swearing under his breath, but when it did her little face seemed to contort in a mixture of hurt and misunderstanding.  

"She doesn't want me anymore?" She asked, her bottom lip jutting out.  

"N—No. No, monkey, come here."  

He opened his arms as she climbed down from her chair and into Ian's lap now facing the two men closer.  

"Sometimes adults make bad decisions. And sometimes they just aren't healthy enough to take care of anybody. It doesn't mean she doesn't love you or want you."  

Mickey sneered and huffed his breath at that earning him the death glare from Ian. He rolled his eyes but reached from the girl anyway plopping her down on his lap instead.  

"Look, it doesn't matter if she wants you or not okay? We want you. We love you. So, what daddy Ian and I wanna know is, if you'd like to become a more permanent part of the family."  

Again Amy was confused, but Adam was right with it and his breath stuttered at the question.  

"Permanent?"  

Mickey and Ian nodded.  

"We'd like to adopt you. And all that means in the boring adult world is you belong to us and we can take care of you no matter what. You would live with us and nothing would change. But, it would stay that way. You'd be a Gallagher."  

"A Gallagher-Milkovich." Mickey butted in.  

"So you guys would be like . . . like my real daddies then right?"  

They smiled nodding softly at her. 

"Okay!"  

And with that she plopped back down and headed back to her waffles as if nothing had even happened. Kids.  

"Well that went a lot better than I thought it was going to." Mickey mumbled. 

"I gotta go to school." Adam muttered shoving away from the table.  

"You want me to drive—"  

"No." He cut him off before slamming the door closed.  

Ian and Mickey looked at each other.  

"What just happened? 

Talk about speaking too soon.  

*** 

 

"Adam. Adam." Mrs. Roberts murmured shaking the young boy's shoulders.  

He'd fallen asleep in class after not doing any of the work assigned and not turning in the homework, unusual behavior for the boy. Once Adam had settled in and gotten used to the Gallagher-Milkovichs he'd tried harder for school. They'd gotten him a tutor to help with credit recovery and he was now on course to graduate. But sometime life gets on top of you; you go through stuff, or you have a bad day and that can change the way you behave.  

"What?" He snapped lifting his head.  

She eyed him critically choosing to say her criticisms for later instead of in front of the class.  

"See me after class. And keep your head up."   

When class ended and everyone filed out, Adam was left at his seat a face of absolute boredom perfectly constructed on his face. 

Mrs. Robert sat at her desk giving him a worrying glance. She'd had Adam the year before and had saw his transformation. He was one of her favorite students even. So, she of all people could see his regression and it made her nervous. He was too deep into the semester to turn back now.  

"You wanna tell me what's bothering you?" She asked him.  

He simply shrugged his shoulders and remained quiet. 

"Adam, I can't help if you don't let me in. Forget about school for a second. Just tell me what's up."  

"Isn't that what counselors are for?"  

She smiled. "We tried that before, remember? I'd send you to counselor and you would just skip class instead? Come on. Humor me."  

"Look it doesn't even matter. Can I go now? Please?"  

She looked at him for a moment longer before ultimately deciding that he wasn't going to spill the beans.  

"Okay. Let me write you a pass to your next class."  

*** 

 

"Ian I'm trying to establish a mood over here. It's been five days and my ass needs to ache." Mickey muttered.  

They were in bed after a long day and Mickey was trying to make the day a little longer. Ian was not having it. 

"I think something is wrong with Adam."  

"And that is the cue to put my dick away, thanks honey." He huffed rolling off of his husband.  

"I'm serious, Mickey." Ian sighed. "He skipped class again today."  

"And? We used to skip all the time."  

"We were south side. He's gotten so much better. His gpa is at a three point two. He was excited to be on the A-B honor roll. Something's going on."  

Mickey nodded.  

"Why don't you go talk to him then, since that's really where you want to be?"  

Ian groaned. "Mickey, that's not—"  

"No, I'm serious. Just go. Maybe he'll listen to you. And maybe I can have a decent orgasm."  

Ian eyed him dubiously but Mickey had already made up his mind. He got out of bed and headed for their drawers in search of something that might satisfy him for the night. Ian frowned getting out of bed and heading for the door.  

"Maybe if you don't finish before I get back I could—"  

Mickey cut him off again with a smile that wasn't genuine. "Don't worry about it. I'll be fine."  

Adam was in his room ignoring homework and the world around him with music loud enough to make his ears throb. He hadn't talked to Mickey or Ian except for short muttered phrases since they'd told Amy about the adoption idea. Ian, for the amazing parent he'd turned out to be, still didn't see what was going wrong, but unlike either of their parents he was concerned and he asked and that made all the difference.  

"Hey." Ian smiled taking a seat on the corner of the bed.  

Adam barely spared him a glance.  

"What?"  

"I was just wondering if maybe you were ready to talk about what's been bothering you the past few days."  

"Nope."  

"C'mon don't do this. You've done amazing the past few months. Mick and I are so proud. Don't let that slip over some teenage angsty shit. Just tell me what's up. Maybe I can help."  

Adam snorted. "Aren't you a little busy planning your brand new family?"  

Ian's eyebrows rose. "What?"  

"Forget it. I'll be out of your hair in less than a year, and you guys can get back to your perfect little life."   

Adam rolled over, insistent to ignore his foster parent.  

"This is about Amy?" Ian asked incredulously. "Adam, I—I didn't know. I didn't even think…" 

"Obviously." He sneered.  

"Hey. You're just as much a part of this family as she is. We just don't want her mom to have access to her; she could hurt her. We would do the same for you."  

"If I had anyone who even gave a shit right?"  

"No, that's not…" 

"Just get the fuck out. That is if this is still my room or maybe you wanna give that to Amy too?"  

Ian left the room like a puppy with his tail between his legs. He felt stupid for not seeing it earlier, and knew that he had to do something. But, back in the bedroom there were other problems taking place and something had to take the back burner.  

Mickey came out of the bathroom as Ian entered the room and he didn't seem too keen to talk to him.  

Ian frowned. "Y—You okay?"  

"I'm fine, man. Ready for sleep. Would you get the light?"  

Ian nodded flipping the light as Mickey slid into bed and flipped over to face away from Ian. Ian followed suit, instead choosing to slide up behind him and try to get some friction going between their hips. Mickey's hand shot out and pushed half-heartedly at Ian's hip.  

"A little late for all that. I took care of it."  

"Mickey I—"  

"Please. I'm fuckin' exhausted Ian, let's just talk about this shit tomorrow."  

"O—Okay. Okay." Ian mumbled cowering back to his side of the bed.  

Nothing got solved that night.  

 

*** 

 

"I think we should adopt Adam."  

If they'd been in a television show Mickey would've done a spit take with his morning coffee. But, instead he was tired and horny and lonely, and had no room to do anything but sigh. 

"Of course you do."  

Ian remained persistent. "I went and talked to him last night. That's what he's so angsty about; that's the reason he's been revolting. We asked Amy to be a part of our family and never even thought about him. That's not fair to him." 

"A lot of shit's not fair." Mickey mumbled under his breath.  

"What?"  

"Nothing. So, you just wanna adopt two kids huh? Are they mine two, or is this a strictly Ian thing? Have you even thought this through at all?" He asked.  

"Of course they'd be yours; what are you talking about? Mickey, what's wrong?"  

"You're doing it again. You're asking me to change absolutely everything about myself, so that you're happy and I'm tired okay? I work my ass off every day to make this life a good one, to make you happy with what we've got and it's not good enough. It's never fucking good enough."  

Ian's face contorted in hurt and misunderstanding.  

"That's not true. I don't want you to change anything; I just wanna share this really good thing with two kids who deserve it. I think they deserve an amazing person to love them and take care of them; that person is you. I'm not trying to overwhelm you, I just . . . I wanna give them a family. I think we could have a real nice family."  

Mickey was leaning against the kitchen counter in his suit and tie, this persona he'd created for Ian, to provide for Ian. Ian moved slowly towards him, moving his coffee cup off to the side and running his hands along Mickey's waist and up, up, up till they were clasped behind his neck. Their noses nearly touched and although there were some grey hairs, a laugh line or two, and forehead lines that was definitely weren't there a couple of years ago, they both still loved each other the same. Mickey would still carve a chunk of himself out and present it to Ian on a silver platter if it meant making him happy. And Ian would still try to make everything perfect because he knew they deserved it. It wasn't the most rational behavior to have. But it was them.  

"I love you." Ian whispered against his lips. "I want to have this family with you. Please?"  

Mickey simply drooped in defeat.  

"Okay."  

*** 

 

It turns out adopting people isn't the easiest fucking thing in the world. It's a lot of work, and it requires a lot of time that Mickey and Ian barely have. This means even more things take the back burner. Those cheesy dates Ian used to plan become non-existent. They don't have time to ask each other about the other's day and you can forget about sex. For Ian it's okay because he's doing something important, he's changing these kids' lives. But for Mickey? For Mickey nothing comes as easy, and the whole process feels like he's losing the one person he can't live without. Like he's signing over his husband forever (or at least until Amy turns eighteen).  

"I talked to the lawyer today. We should be all good to go. He says we should be legal parents by the end of the month."  

Mickey nodded eyes not leaving his food. Amy was at a friend's house for the night, and Adam went to see a movie with some girl. They were completely alone in their house and Ian hadn't tried to touch him once. My how things had changed.  

"You feelin' okay?" Ian asked eyes worried.  

Mickey can't help but wonder why he wasn't worried before.  

"It's fine. Gonna head to bed, let you stay up and wait for the kid." 

He went to get up and take his plate to the kitchen, but Ian followed him.  

"You didn't eat much. Is everything okay? Things have been crazy lately, maybe you should talk to your therapist again, just to check in."  

Mickey sighed. "My eating isn't the problem. The problem is you, and I'm not really in the mood, so I'm gonna go jerk off and head to bed. See you in the morning, Gallagher."  

Ian was taken aback by Mickey's behavior, maybe because Mickey had been holding everything in. But he didn't wanna hold it in anymore. Holding it in was hurting and frustrating and him and he couldn't do it anymore.  

"Mickey you can't just walk away after saying some shit like that. If you're upset you gotta tell me!" Ian called stalking after him.  

Mickey turned around with wide, angry eyes. "Since when?! Since when do you not know me well enough to understand my feelings without me having to say it? You've been doing that my whole goddamn life, and now all of a sudden Daddy Ian doesn't have time for me? Daddy Ian is too busy building this big ole family of his and I'm not a fucking part of it. I'm not angry, I'm fucking hurt and I'm sad and I'm unsatisfied alright? And the fact that you don't see that just makes it all so much worse."  

He continued up the stairs and Ian, after a paused moment of hurt, stalked after him. They met in their bedroom, a place that used to mean so many good and wonderful things, but now was nothing but a reminder of the things lacking in their marriage.  

"I—I didn't know." Ian mumbled.  

"You didn't know? Ian when's the last time we fucked?"  

"I . . . don't know."  

"Five months and two weeks today. You haven't fucked me since I rode you while you watched TV. And you were barely fucking there. What do you mean you don't know? I haven't seen you in months. We haven't had a conversation outside of adoption in I don't know how long. Shit, Ian."  

"I thought this was what you wanted! You told me this is what you wanted. It's not my fault that this is a lot of work, and that we're new at it. Something has to take the back seat. These kids are our number one priority. Nothing else can come before them, you have to know that or this is never gonna work."  

"It's not working now! I need sex, alright? I don't see you sometimes but for three hours out of the day. It's the only fucking way I get to connect to you anymore. We're not teenagers with nothing better to do than hang out with each other; there's too much shit to do and not enough time to do it. When you put them above everything you don't just put them above me you completely fucking take me out of the picture!"  

"You're being selfish!" 

"What the first time in my life I actually put myself first and now I'm a piece of shit huh? Now I'm being selfish! Fuck you, Ian."  

"Fuck you, Mickey!" 

"You'd have to actually give a shit about something other than your kids to do that." Mickey spat heading directly for their closet. "Why don’t I just get out of your hair and leave you to your perfect life huh? Maybe a husband doesn’t fit your perfect family anymore."  

And usually this was the moment where they parted ways, where they say some ugly shit they didn't mean to hurt the other person, but this wasn't what Ian wanted. And for the first time he was able to stand up and put a stop to their destructive behavior.  

"Don't."  

Mickey turned. "Excuse me?"  

"Don't fucking say that unless you mean it. If you're not gonna leave me don't say that."  

They stared at each other for a minute. They were tired and at the end of the day they just missed each other. So, much.  

Ian stalked forward grabbing Mickey by the waist and hugging him tight.  And it was the first time they'd touched in way too long, but it's okay cause they're still trying, still together.  

"I'm sorry." Ian mumbled squeezing him tighter. "I'm really sorry."  

Mickey hid his face in Ian's chest soaking in what he'd been missing for so long. Because it wasn't just sex that he missed, it was much deeper than that. He just missed his husband. 

"I fuckin' miss you, Ian." He whispered.  

Ian nodded sadly. "I miss you too."  

They stood there for a second wrapped up in each other in a way they hadn't in months. Ian just held him and Mickey let him and no one had to say anything because that's them, that's Mickey and Ian. It was never easy. But neither of them ever gave up.  

"I wanna have sex with you on the kitchen table." Mickey breathed against his neck 

"What?"  

"And also on the couch. And across from the fire place. And maybe on the stairs."  

"You sure? Cause we haven't really talked this through. Like at all."  

Mickey stared at him incredulously. As if he was a complicated enough man to put his emotional needs above his sexual ones. That Gallagher.  

"Come the fuck on." He muttered yanking his husband towards the stairs. 

 Marriage.  

*** 

Adam stalked into the house giddy and tired with a hickey on his neck. He felt like he was on top of the world. That's how someone can make you feel when you meet them for the first time, like everything is so much better than it ever was before. He closed the door quietly assuming his foster parents would be asleep. They hadn't been getting along lately, and he knew this; so, he hoped maybe they'd reconciled a little with the Amy and he out of the house. Boy was he right.  

Ian was lying on the couch naked with Mickey fast asleep against his chest, running his fingers through the black, and in some areas grey, strands. Thankfully he'd reached for the blanket off the back of the couch before Adam came home. He was smiling down at his husband when Adam came around the corner.  

"Hey. How was the movie?" Ian asked.  

Adam shrugged. "I don't really remember."  

"That good huh?"  

The younger man's cheeks reddened at that and he ducked his head, which unfortunately showed off his hickey.  

"Do we need to talk about condoms? There's always plenty around if you need some."  

Adam rolled his eyes at the two naked men. "I can see that. You know Amy sits on the couch? I sit on that couch . . . Besides, it's not like that. Not yet at least. We're just hanging out."  

"Okay. As long as they know that. And I'll disinfect it later, promise."  

He nodded looking down.  

"Does this mean you guys are done fighting?"  

Ian sighed as the realization that Mickey and Ian falling apart now affected more than just each other hit home. He owed Mickey another apology.  

"For now. Mick and I do that sometimes. We come from broken homes and unstable relationships and sometimes it's hard to do the right thing. Sometimes it's actually therapeutic to just yell at each other and get it all out ya know?"  

"Yea. I just . . . you guys are all I got. So, if you fall apart I don't have anything else. No pressure or anything."  

Ian chuckled. "Yea, no pressure. We're not going anywhere, Adam. You're stuck with us."  

"Promise?"  

And for a second Ian is reminded of just how young the boy in front of him is, and how scared he must be about life in general, and he just wants to make that all better for him.  

"I promise."  

Adam smiled softly. "Okay. Night, Ian."  

"Night, Adam."  

"Will you two shut the fuck up I'm trying to sleep." Mickey mumbled arising from the dead. 

The two found this exceptionally funny which did nothing at all to get Mickey back to sleep. Bastards.  

Ian waited until Adam was up the stairs before turning to his husband who was staring up at him grumpily from Ian's chest.  

"I owe you another apology." Ian breathed running his hands up Mickey's bare back.  

"Yea? What for?"  

"Adam knew we were fighting. And it was affecting him. So my whole the kids come first shtick was bullshit. You and me are the foundation of the family, and I guess because all I had was Monica and Frank, and Fiona, as phenomenal as she was, was still really shitty, I forgot how important the parent's relationship dynamic is. I always wanted to pretend Frank and Monica's dynamic never affected me, but it did, and I should've known that could upset them. If you and I aren't happy with each other that's gonna affect Adam and Amy and any other foster child we encounter, ya know? So, you were right, and I'm an idiot, which makes what I'm about to say even crazier."  

Mickey's lip twitched. "That's okay. I like your crazy. What is it?"  

"You can't ever leave me."  

He sighed. "Ian—"  

"No, I'm serious. Maybe you didn't mean it earlier, but I don't care. I don't even wanna hear shit like that. I don't want that to be something we hold over each other's heads cause it's dark and it's mean and hurtful. I love you. So fucking much. I want us to be forever. I know we can be. Do you know that?"  

Mickey frowned shoving his face into Ian's neck which was his, and a cat's, way of showing affection.  

"'Fuckin course I know that. Every day you didn't fuck me it never even crossed my mind to go somewhere else. I don't wanna be anywhere else but right here. I'm sorry for even bringing that dumb shit up. Divorce isn't an option."  

Ian pulled at Mickey's face kissing him softly once. Twice. A third time.  

"Promise?"  

"I'd get it tattooed in a heartbeat. I promise."  

"And we'll talk more? You gotta tell me when I'm being neglectful, and I'll work on helping you out more. You work so much and we don't get to spend a lot of time together. That's my fault." 

"It's nobody's fault, it's just life. But sure, we'll talk more. You can start by taking me out tomorrow."  

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Is Mickey Milkovich-Gallagher demanding to be taken on a date?"  

"Mickey Milkovich-Gallagher is about to go under these covers. It's up to Ian Gallagher's mouth whether he chooses to use teeth or not."  

"Our son is upstairs." Ian smirked and then gasped as something sharp touched his junk. "Not funny Mickey!"  

He chuckled from under the covers.  

*** 

 

"Okay you have our numbers. And uh I wrote down the number for the restaurant. And Amy has to be in bed by nine, Adam has to be in the house before midnight and don't forget to check the locks and—"  

"Hey! You guys are going out to dinner, not to the Bahamas." Mandy snorted. "I think I can keep two kids alive for a night."  

Mickey and Ian raised an eyebrow before they were met with middle fingers.  

"Don't touch my booze, don't touch my weed and keep my kids safe. Sounds like the three golden rules to me. Let's go Gallagher."  

They head to a really nice, schmoozy, restaurant that was over prized but made them feel like adults. Ian got the chicken and Mickey got the lamb and they talked for the entire time. It felt really good. Not that they really had any meaningful conversation. It was chit chat, but it them. Mickey made Ian laugh like he always did and it was wonderful. It was the same thing they'd been doing all their lives. Shooting the shit. But now they wore button ups and held hands in plain sight. It was weird and it was… fucking fantastic.  

"I know what I want for my anniversary present." Mickey murmured.  

He'd had two doubles of scotch and he was loose and warm.  

"Our anniversary isn't until next month, but shoot." Ian smiled wide and goofy at him. 

"Want us to go get tattoos." He smirked.  

Ian chuckled. "Oh really?"  

"Yep. I'm fuckin' old now. I work a nine to five job where I gotta wear a tie every day. I've gotten boring. Let's go get a tattoo."  

"And afterwards we can go to a club, maybe relive the glory days? Do a little dancing. Get into a bar fight. And then duck behind an alley and fuck?"  

Mickey groaned softly. "You're a genius. Check please!"  

They stumble down the street arms over shoulders like a couple of idiots. Neither of them would be so loose after a couple of drinks, but they were finally unwinding and were high off being together again. This was cause for a little drunkenness.  

They find a twenty-four hour tattoo parlor and sit down with this guy covered in intricate designs all over his body. He helps them come up with a design after Ian suggests they get a divorce is not an option tattoo and Mickey whole hardily agrees. They were totally gonna get the whole phrase, but they charged by the letter and Mickey wasn't drunk enough to not be cheap. So, they got D.N.O instead.  

Ian gets it on his wrist, over a faint scar where a world ago he'd gone far enough to hurt himself. Mickey wanted it to be just as visible, so he did the same. And when it's done and it's out in the open they both feel so good. The tattoo acts as a marker. This is my person, but also I am their person. It's possessive and loving and they each absolutely adore it.  

When they stumbled home Mandy was asleep with Amy in her lap and Adam in the chair, all of them snoring softly. Mickey dragged Ian upstairs to the quietness of their mattress. They found themselves bare except for the cool sheets covering them and Mickey's cheeks burned as Ian propped his thigh up over Ian's leg. It was sappy, the sappiest, and smutty, but alcohol lowers inhibitions so fuck off. 

"What'd you marry my weird ass for anyway?" Mickey grinned nuzzling Ian's neck to death.  

"You mean besides this?" Ian smirked reaching at his literal ass with large, soft hands. 

He chuckled. "Yea, 'sides that."  

"You'll think it's dumb." 

"I said yes didn't I?"  

"You did, didn't you?" He sighed happily nestling even closer to Mickey. 

"After all that stuff with your eating, when you were just looking so sad before. And then after it all was over, and you were getting help . . . Remember when we had Chinese for the first time and Mandy came over?" 

Mickey nodded letting Ian hold his hand.  

"You got potstickers." He smiled. "You weren't eating before, but that time you did and it was the most beautiful you'd ever looked to me ever. And I just thought I wanted you to be mine. Forever."  

"Oh Jesus, Ian. He spluttered cheeks as red as could be.  

He ducked his head to hide but Ian just moved with him.  

"I'm serious. It's sappy and ridiculous, but it's true. That's what made me propose."  

"Such a possessive fucker."  

Ian nodded humming as he tightened his hold on him.  

"Mine."  

"Yea. Yours."  

 

*** 

 

"Adam's got a girl he wants to bring over for dinner."  

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "He need rubbers?"  

Ian shook his head. "I snuck some into bathroom just in case. He said nothing's going on yet, but now he wants to bring her over so maybe that's changed."  

"Jeez I'm glad we never had to do that shit. Can you imagine me introducing you to Terry?"  

Ian snorted. "No, I don't think I can."  

"Ian! Mickey!"  

"Kitchen!" They yelled in unison. 

Ian was cooking with Amy while Mickey watched on fondly.  

Adam came in with a girl and wasn't exactly sure what they were expecting. She had long brown hair, green eyes, and a kind smile. She wore a pretty dark blue dress that contrasted nicely with her combat boots. Kids these days. So angsty.  

"Well hello there." Ian smirked.  

Adam blushed. "This is Cora."  

"Hi Mr. and Mr. Gallagher."  

"Please, call me Ian."  

"I'll stick with Mr. Gallagher."  

Ian punched his husband in the arm causing the dark haired man to glare at him.  

"Ouch, dammit."  

"Language. You can call him Mickey. Or asshole depending on the last time he's eaten."  

Mickey flipped him off causing Cora to go into a giggle fit, so things must've not been too terrible.  

They all sat down at the table together. Mickey tried to make sure Amy got most of her food in her mouth instead of all over the place, and Ian played hostess to Cora trying to get all in the information that Adam would refuse to give him otherwise.  

"How long have you two been going out?" He asked.  

Cora shrugged. "We met when he first started school here, but it took him up till about three months ago to ask me out."  

"Three months huh?" Ian smirked at Adam who was full on blushing now. "That must've been the movie date you told me about."  

"Yep." Adam replied bruskly.  

"Well that's just adorable, isn't it Mick?"  

Mickey snorted. "I'm speechless."  

Cora was not at all afraid of the Gallaghers or of Adam for that matter, which is what drew him to her in the first place. He'd gone into high school with the same persona he'd entered the Gallagher home with, and had been met with a similar and yet opposite response. She was just as warm and forgiving as his parents, but she also didn't take any of his shit. She was refreshing and funny and cute as all damn hell. She was kind of the whole package for him.  

Ian watched on as Adam found a way to slip his hand into Cora's as discreetly as he possibly could, which was to say not at all. He managed to hold on to his reaction instead of bursting in awe and excitement. As a foster parent it was his goal to show his kids love and affection and work his ass off to get them to be able to not only experience that, but be able to share it as well. Watching Adam with Cora was the ultimate satisfaction for Ian, because it showed that he'd done what he set out to do.  

"We're gonna go hang in my room."  

Ian raised an eyebrow. He'd been all for love and affection... just not too much affection.  

"Wouldn't you rather hang out in the living room? You know with the tv... and without doors?"  

Mickey who was holding on to a squirly Amy laughed.  

"Don't be such a prude, Gallagher. Keep your door open and no funny business. After we get Amy down for bed I'll let you drive her home alright?"  

"Alright, thanks Mickey." He grinned before disappearing up the stairs.  

Once the kids had disappeared up the stairs Ian was able to let his smile fly quickly beaming at his husband.  

"You're a mess."  

"I'm a mess. You're supposed to agree with me all the time? What's with this whole offering alternative options?"  

Mickey shrugged. "He's my kid too, isn't he?"  

And if that didn't just warm Ian's over-sized heart to bits.  

"You got me there, Mick."  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? Did you think this fic was abandoned? Did you think I would never return? well you're wrong! And I must say I resent that thinking.  
> I am so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so so sorry! But, if it's any consolation, ya girl graduated high school! Woo hoo. And I finished my big bang fic! Whoo hoo. And I am currently unemployed! Woo... okay not woo hooy but you get my drift. I have time to finally sit down and get to the bottom of this fic. I hope you're not too disappointed and I hope you enjoy this chapter to tide you over. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	28. College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam is 18 and a world of changes is taking place. For the first time in his life he actually has a future to think about. Will he be able to live a life outside of the squalor that he's used to, or will Adam set himself up to fail?

Adam is almost eighteen when he applies to colleges. He doesn't tell his parents shit, which is agonizing, especially with Ian asking him every two seconds. With zero idea of how to pay for it, and a blatant refusal to put any more financial burden on his parents, he applies for every scholarship he can find. In a perfect world he'd go to NYU because that's where his girlfriend and his friends are more than likely going to, but he has zero hopes for that so he applies to LaGuardia knowing that it's a guarantee. In a school where everyone seems to know where they're going and what they wanna do, Adam can't help but feel more lost than ever. And it sucks. 

"You know I talked to Mr. Nelson today? Told him you decided to not even apply to NYU. Except an ass chewing after calculus today." Cora smirked over lunch.  

Adam stared on at his food in defeat. "You shouldn't have even brought it up. It's a lost cause."  

"No, it's really not. You're just making it one. Even if we weren't dating I would be shocked if you didn't apply to NYU. You've worked your ass off, Adam. Your grades are better than half the class  and colleges aren't going to ignore your background. You gotta use that shit to your advantage and stop feeling sorry for yourself."  

"I'm not feeling sorry for yourself I'm being realistic Cor! The fuck do I look like going to NYU without a single fuckin clue of what I want to do? You have your plan. So does Michael and Keela and all our friends. You guys have a clue alright. I don't. I can't afford it and I can't get in. Now can we just drop it? Please?" He hissed.  

Little did she know just how much he sounded like Mickey in that moment. It was literally uncanny. And Little did he know just how stubborn she could be.  

"Sure." She murmured softly while thinking to herself _fat fuckin chance._  

After school, when he'd most definitely got his ass chewed by Mr. Nelson, he went home with Cora to study for their latest test. But with no parents, or nagging sister at home, they headed straight for his room instead. They hadn't had sex yet, though Cora was extremely vocal about what she wanted sexually and how she wanted things done. She was all about communication and making sure they were both happy which was the weirdest, most beautiful thing Adam had ever experienced before. She blew his mind in more ways than one and he adored the shit out of her.  

"I need you to apply to NYU." She hummed as he worked her sweater over her head.  

"And why is that?" He huffed.  

"Because how can we do this if you're all the way in LaGuardia away from me?"  

"It's only thirty minutes away, I checked."  

She wrapped her arms around his neck nose and lips skimming along the skin until he shivered.  

"You sure you wanna chance that? Imagine the things we could do in thirty minutes."  

Jesus, this girl was a freak of a nature.  

"Not. Fair." He whined.  

They tumbled through his bed fooling around and kissing and groping. It really was a beautiful and rare occurrence for them to really and truthfully be alone. Sure, his parents went out and let Adam babysit but Cora never wanted to fool around with Amy in the house. When they were alone he felt free, not just sexually, but physically. She made him feel like he could do anything, be anything when they were together. And as long as his parents weren't there to give him shit for it he could revel in that.  

"You have no idea how fuckin' amazing you are." Cora mumbled sucking a mark into his neck. "You can do anything Adam. You can be anything."  

He met her eye and for a second let all his vibrato melt away and the vulnerability come through. 

"I don't know if I can." He whispered.  

"Just trust me." She smiled nipping at his jaw. "Trust me."  

She ran her hands through his hair and they pulled each other closer getting completely consumed in teen hormones for however long they had it.  

***  

 

Ian bursted into the house with groceries on every arm and a little girl beside him.  

"Go start on your homework and then you can watch tv okay?"  

"Okay!"  

Still sweaty from work at the gym, Ian quickly put the groceries away and got dinner in the oven in order to  head upstairs for a shower. He heard the giggles of teenage love before he was even halfway up the stairs and felt the need to give them a fair warning before either Amy or Mickey crashed their party. He knocked hard and fast on the door already wincing as the bed squeaked with teenagers rushing away from awkward positions.  

"Just a heads up. We're home!" He called.  

There was a echo of okays from two irritated teens that had an older Ian chuckling on his way to the shower. 

By the time he got out there was this beautiful, striking man waiting for him downstairs. He was dressed in a shirt and tie with his sleeves rolled up. He had black and pepper hair that seemed to only get sexier with age, and Ian in his sweatpants and t-shirt with water stains where his body had still been slightly damp, couldn't keep his hands to himself.  

"Well hello to you too, Gallagher, damn." Mickey snorted as Ian wrapped his arms around his waist. 

They shared a kiss that lacked anything but passion and Ian made sure to nip at Mickey's bottom lip before nuzzling the man into the kitchen counter.  

"What, I can't be happy to see you?" He hummed.  

"No, you can be. Just nice is all. Been working my ass off all day, come home to the wife and kids and a home cooked meal. It's like a fuckin' movie ain't it."  

"We're kicking marriage's ass if what we're doing." He smirked.  

"And it's tiring work. I need to fuckin' retire from my day job if we're gonna keep this shit up."  

"You're tired?"  

"Am I ever not tired?" Mickey asked.  

"My poor baby, come here."  

And then he was covering his lips with his own not giving Mickey a chance to yell at him for the nickname. He worked as Mickey's tie and shirt, working the buttons open so he could get his hands on his skin. His thumbs were warm and soothing as they worked at his husband's flesh all the while continuing to lay claim to that wonderful pouty ass mouth of his. The gym was rough because Ian was constantly pushing himself, but he knew it had nothing on Mickey's workload. His husband was a fucking bulldozer moving through life and taking down anything that dare get in his way. He was amazing and lovely and Ian loved to do anything in his power to thank him for that.  

"I'll take care of everything. Make it all better. Promise." Ian practically purred.  

Ian was a horny sack of shit and Mickey was absolutely here for it.  

"Yea? Think you could bust out that thing I like? With the remote and all that."  

Mickey was a blunt and honest man who blushed when his sex toys were mentioned and Ian was absolutely here for it.  

"Fuckin yes I can."  

 Age was a son of a bitch, but it couldn't take away that fire for each other. They were still boys at heart absolutely fascinated with each other minds, bodies, and souls. It was the best part of them.  

"Oh for fuck sakes you two!" Adam whined as he and Cora made their way into the kitchen.  

No one just wants to see their father with his shirt torn open while his other father sucks his face. It's fuckin gross. 

"Lanaguage, shithead." Mickey muttered as the mood was ruined. 

Cora giggled. "Hi, Ian. Hi, Mickey."  

"Hey Cora." They said in unison, one monotone, one overly cheerful.  

"You staying for dinner? I'm making beef wellington." Ian smiled arms still wrapped around his husband.  

Adam snorted. "He's discovered Gordon Ramsay and he's convinced he's a chef now."  

"Hey, your dad can be a chef if he wants to. Life is too short to not make beef wellington." Mickey insisted.  

Ian practically melted in his arms.  "God I love you."  

Mickey and Adam soon dispersed to the living room to watch tv with Amy and unwind while Ian cooked Cora decided to stick around with him and try her hand at cutting vegetables which she was shit at.  

"It's okay, it's okay. Mick's grandmother she taught me how to use a knife. She's a wizard I swear. You just gotta go slow until you get the hang of things. Let the knife do the work, not your hand. Too much pressure and that's how you get the uneven slices." He explained.  

She nodded and got back to work as Ian worked on slicing potatoes.  

"You really like to cook huh?"  

Ian shrugged. "It makes me happy to make something good. When I was growing up we didn't have much. My sister she would work waitressing jobs and come home smelling like french fries with leftovers for dinner.  She did her best ya know? We were always taken care of. And I guess I just always wanted to take care of people too. It's why Mick calls me a mother hen all the time. I like knowing that the people I care about are okay." 

"That's really cool." 

"I'm glad someone thinks so. You cook a lot at home?"  

She laughed. "Not really. I live with my sister and her husband. She a endocrinologist and her husband is a cardiac surgeon.  Not a lot of time for home cooked meals. We're more of a take out kind of family."  

Ian nodded in understanding. "Well you're always welcome here. If there's one thing I've learned from Martha it's that more is always more, so I'll make sure to send you with leftovers."  

"Thank you. You really don't have to do that, Ian."  

"Yea, well, believe it or not I remember being a kid. And as big as my family was people weren't always around when I needed them. But the people that were made all the difference, so we're here for you too." He smiled. "'Sides, my son worships the ground you walk on and I like to stay off his shit list."  

That sent her into a giggle fit. "He totally does. His ground ain't half bad either though."  

Young love. Sigh.  

They all ate dinner together and even managed to watch a movie after Amy's shower. She sat in between Mickey's legs while he braided her hair into long beautiful and intricate braids. He'd learned as a kid when Mandy used to bully him like the little bitch she was. Braiding her hair was one of the only things he could do that Ian couldn't. It made him feel important. Plus all the little girls at school were always jealous, as they should be, and Amy was ecstatic. Making that girl happy was nice enough within itself.  

When it had gotten late and it was time for Cora to go, Adam did everything in his power to get her stay.  

"You sure you gotta go? It's dark out I don't want you walking by yourself."  

She grinned. "You're adorable, but any poor son of a bitch that dares steps to me is getting about a thousand watts of energy zapped to his nuts. If there's anything my sister taught me it's to always be packing. I don't live far promise."  

"Please? J—Just stay. You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the floor. Your sister and her husband are never home anyway. You can stay."  

"Come here." Cora sighed pulling him into a hug. She squeezed him tight. "Thank you."  

Because no one had ever cared like Adam. Not her sister. Not her parents. Any of the boys she'd ever messed around with. Adam was special because he genuinely care about her well being. And that. Well that just warmed her fucking heart.  

"I gotta go home though. You think one of your dads would mind driving me?"  

He sighed hiding his face in her hair. 

 "I'll go ask." 

*** 

 

"What should we get Adam for his birthday?"   

It was a rare afternoon where both men had the day off and Ian was working the kinks out of Mickey's back only after tying his dick in knots.  

He groaned softly. "I don't know. Kid's turning eighteen. He's not gonna need a car. We buy him everything he fuckin' asks for. What else is there?"  

"Maybe we let him get away from us. Isn't that what every kid wants?"  

Mickey chuckled. "Mother hen is actually suggesting we let the kid off his leash? You're more terrified of him knocking his girlfriend up than he is."  

"I'm serious. Let him rent out a hotel room. Adam's a good kid. They'll get drunk, smoke some weed in a contained area meanwhile we know where he's at, know that he's safe. It'll make him feel like a real fuckin' adult too. What do you think?"  

"I think we send Amy out for one of her sleepovers and you make me dinner with store bought ice-cream. A night to ourselves sounds fuckin' perfect, man."  

Ian grinned into Mickey's back thighs cradling his sides as he moved his thumbs deeper into his skin.  

"Don't act like you don't care. I know that you do. You'd do anything for these kids." He murmured.  

"Yea, well, I got a rep to protect. Keep that shit to yourself. And maybe a little less kneading a little more sucking."  

"You ready to go again, already?"  

"I am a fuckin' stallion Gallagher. That you can spread around."  

"Oh a stallion! Okay."  

They ended up rough housing around laughing and jabbing at each other until someone kissed the other and then it was back down under the sheets, no one coming up for air until they were out of breath and satisfied. 

*** 

 

"Adam, it's so nice to see you, what can I do for you today?"  

Mrs. Greggers was his counselor. He didn't visit her often, but seeing as how he didn't wanna be fucked for life he figured he didn't have much of a choice.  

"I uh... I wanted to see if maybe you knew of any scholarships other than the ones posted on the bulletin."  

Her eyebrows raised. "What's wrong with the ones on the bulletin? They're pretty standard."  

"Nothing. Nothing, it's just that I've applied for them all already."  

That threw her for a loop. She couldn't help but gawk at the boy because they posted at least fifty scholarships every month.  

"You've applied for every. Single. Scholarship?"  

Adam nodded. "I was just wondering if maybe there were any that you knew about that somehow don't end up on the list. I've googled some of those sites, but they don't really work. I mean, I never hear back from them."  

"Adam do you mind if I ask what school you're trying to get into?"  

"Well all my friends are more than likely going to NYU. But I can't get in there so I was thinking LaGuardia."  

"And why can't you get into NYU?" She asked.  

He chuckled. "Oh c'mon Mrs. G. it's a private school. They don't want scum like me from the wrong side of the tracks. If I hadn't gotten my foster parents when I did I wouldn't even be in school right now."  

"But you are. And you have been for the past two years, and you've done some really good work Adam."  

She swirled around in her chair grabbing this huge binder that hit the table with a thud before she began to flick through it.  

"You got a 1650 on the SAT. You're pulling in all As and Bs with three APs might I add. Your GPA could average above a 4.0 by the end of this semester and you think because you got dealt a bad hand you're screwed for life?"  

He dropped his head so that their eyes no longer met and thumbed at his nose.  

"I don't buy it. You're one of the most promising students I have, Adam. Now I want you to apply to NYU and _when_ you get in you come back to me and we'll figure out a game plan on how to pay for it. Alright?"  

It didn't really sound like a question, more like a demand. 

"Okay." He mumbled.  

"Okay. Now let me get you a pass back to class. Kids these days I swear." She sighed to herself.  

*** 

 

"I got you something." Cora grinned jumping onto Adam's bed.  

"Yea, what's that?"  

He wrapped his arms around her hips as she laid the wrapped package on the bed. They were supposed to be getting ready for his birthday dinner, but Cora had wanted to give him his present in private. The dumb teenage boy in his had immediately hoped for a blow job, but this was totally okay too.  

"Open it."  

He sat up and grabbed for the box, a long rectangle with purple wrapping paper and a purple and white bow. The bow quickly came undone beneath his finger tips leaving the wrapping paper to tear. Inside the box was a sweatshirt, an NYU sweatshirt. Actually two NYU sweatshirts. His and her sweatshirts. And if the goofy smile on his face was anything to go off of, Cora had hit the nail right on the head.  

"Don't you think you're jumping the gun a little bit here?"  

She shook her head reaching in to pull out her own sweater.  

"I am firm believer that you get whatever you put into this world. We got this. Happy birthday baby."  

"Jesus, you're amazing." He grunted pulling her in for a kiss. "Thank you."  

"Hmmm, you're welcome."  

"Attention hormone raging teenagers, father with a weak stomach is about to enter; please clothe yourselves!" Mickey called through the door.  

Adam rolled his eyes but Cora found it hilarious. She always found his dads funnier than he did.  

"Ian wants to take pictures before we go out to dinner. Humor the poor bastard, he's pissing his pants with excitement." Mickey said.  

"Okay, we'll be out it a minute."  

Mickey's eyesbrows danced. "He takin' advantage of you Cora?"  

She smiled. "I do appreciate the notion to defend my honor and what not Mickey, but the idea that Adam as a boy is more inclined to try something sexually due to his gender is both incorrect and a little insulting. Who's to say I wasn't taking advantage of him just now, not that I ever would because I wholeheartedly believe in healthy communication when it comes to sexual activity between partners, but that doesn't mean I couldn't simply because of the vagina between my legs, ya know?"  

Mickey stared at her, absolutely baffled by the burst of knowledge this child had just exploded on him. There's a reason he was into cock, men were simpler, less confusing. Also tits are scary, but that's besides the point. Adam on the other hand was in awe and wonderment.  

"Isn't she amazing?" He sighed.  

"Better than you that's for sure. Before I defend anymore honors or disgrace any women can you just come take some pictures for your dad, please?"  

"Sure, we're coming."  

Downstairs Amy was in her brand new dress, bought specially for the occasion. Her long, brown hair had been pulled into two perfect puffs on her head because she was all for being edgy nowadays, and she was more than excited to take pictures. Ian wore a green button up and a good pair of jeans while Mickey was dressed similar in a grey button up. Ian was insistent on smoothing out his husband and making sure he looked as good as possible no matter how much Mickey complained, and he did the same to Adam. 

Everybody was forced to take pictures, no one dared say no to Ian's face, lest someone call PETA for upsetting that fucking puppy dog face of his. By the time he got through they were running late for their reservation. But Ian was happy, and as much as he tried to act the opposite, so was Adam. Being fussed over and smothered wasn't something he took lightly, it meant he was loved and that wasn't something Adam ever took for granted.  

"This is from us. We know your phone is your everything now, but every man should have one of these." Mickey smirked handing Adam the small box.  

It was a watch. A nice watch. Not over the top or gaudy, but you could tell it was expensive. It had a brown leather wrist strap and an intricate silver detailing on the face of the watch. It was a thing of beauty and Adam loved it.  

"It's fuckin' beautiful." He beamed touching slightly at the straps. "I suppose you'll want a hug for this?"  

"The best things in life aren't free." Ian smirked. "At least you didn't have to steal this one huh?" 

Cora sent him a questioning look but he just shook his head choosing to forgo that particular memory. 

If there was anything to learn about Ian, it was that he loved him a good ole hug. Mickey on the other hand hated them, so Adam made sure to hug him extra tight.  

Mickey chuckled messing Adam's hair up in the front. "Happy birthday, asshole."  

"I'm proud of you. Happy birthday." Ian smiled.  

"What about me?!" Amy whined from her seat.  

"We're very proud of you too, monkey."  

She smiled triumphantly. "Good."  

"And here is your standard present for when you're too old to get presents, a card with money in it. We googled it. You can read the heartfelt sappy stuff later. Let's eat!"  

Dinner was great, and really stood as an eye opener for Adam. His life had taken a complete 180 twist since moving in with his foster parents. It wasn't just the fact that they had money it was the fact that they felt he was worth that money. He'd never been in a restaurant like the one they were at that night. He hadn't gotten a present since he was six years old. His dad bought him a frozen pizza, got fucked up with his buddies, and ate it. Then he beat him for crying about it. This idea of going to dinner for his birthday with his parents and his sister and his girlfriend, was mindblowing. It's not what guys like him ever deserved. And yet here he was. 

He was reminded of the conversation he'd had with Mickey after he got his permit. About reaching out and taking the beautiful things in life. Adam didn't have to suffer or sulk in gloom and doom all the time. It was okay to find things and love them and hold onto them. Cora's fingers tightened around his as they sat intertwined in his lap and he smiled. Because for the first time in his life, he was content with all the things around him. He was happy, and that was okay.  

When dinner was over and Amy was sleepy from all the festivities the family headed home where Mickey and Ian could unveil another surprise without having to do anything themselves.  

"We figured the last thing you wanna do when your eighteen is spend the night with your folks so we got you something else."  

Adam's eyes widened. "An apartment?"  

"Very funny wise guy. No." Mickey sneered.  

"It's a hotel room." Ian clarified. "We figured you could invite some friends over... Have some good, clean, wholesome fun that we won't hear anything about. A little vacation to start you off as a man, what do you say?"  

"I say hand over the key!" He laughed.  

To say the boy was excited would be a tad bit of an understatement. A hotel room for the weekend was beyond his realm of possibility, so he definitely hadn't seen it coming. He was ecstatic and that did Mickey and Ian's hearts good.  

Adam ran to his room to start packing. Ian gave Mickey the side eye that told him to get his ass up the stairs. Funny thing about marriage, eventually you don't have to speak. It's a look, a lift of the face in some way, and you just know. So, Mickey went upstairs to do the dirty work while Ian played nice with the girlfriend.  

He was upstairs stuffing things into a bag when Mickey walked in and tossed a box at him with too much strength.  

"Ouch, dammit!" He huffed.  

"Watch your mouth asswipe!"Mickey muttered."Your dad wants you take those."  

"Oh god, more condoms?! What do you guys own stock?"  

"Very funny. If you don't take those, I don't get to use one tonight, so suck it up and put the damn box in your bag."  

"Agh!" Adam gagged.  

Mickey laughed on his way out the door. Making his son uncomfortable was awesome. This dad stuff was a piece of cake sometimes.  

*** 

 

"Wow. This is nice." Cora breathed.  

The room was nice and spacious with a huge bed in the middle with finely pressed sheets and all that jazz. It was better than anything Adam had stayed in before his time with the Gallagher-Milkovichs that’s for sure. They layed down beside one another grinning goofily at the ceiling.  

"Did you invite everybody?"  

Adam shook his head. "I figured I'd rather spend my first night relaxing before the craziness. 'Sides only one I wanna spend the rest of my birthday with is you."  

"Awww, thank you baby." She giggled rolling over.  

"You're welcome." He breathed peering up at her.  

Adam was still in awe of her. She was really fucking gorgeous, and unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Her hair was long and brown, sure, but that didn't even begin to describe it. She wonderful curls that sprouted from her scalp like roots, weaving in intricate wonderful patterns amongst her head. She was olive skin, warm and toasted like the sun, a perfect mixture of her black mother and white father. Freckles dotted across her nose along her cheeks. And her eyes were fucking piercing.  

His hands settled on her hips curving along her sides and drawing upwards. Because somehow, despite all the odds, he wasn't a piece of shit and he'd never pushed himself on her. Because she was this radical, conscious human being who spoke about the human body, about sex and love and pleasure like it was art, something to be so immensely celebrated and loved no matter who you were, no matter your sexuality, or gender. She saw the world as something so potentially beautiful, and shared that vision with every person she came across. If anything it made him want her more, made him cherish every word that she spoke. He'd never met anyone like her.  

"I'm guessing you'll want a reward for that huh?" Cora whispered.  

"Whatever you're willing to give me." He promised.  

"We're really alone."  

"Totally alone." 

She sat up on top of him biting her lips in absolute nervousness, because preaching the right for people to have sex didn't mean she was gonna be any good at it, and somehow coming off attractive while doing it. When she reached for the edges of her shirt to drag it over her body it go stuck in her wild mane of hair and she basically almost died. Shirt – one, Cora – zero.  

"Oh god. Oh god that's so embarrassing." She whined ater Adam helped untangle her.  

Adam chuckled. "It's fine, really. You look adorable."  

"I'm not supposed to be adorable right now, Adam. I am supposed to be . . .  a ball of sex right now. I should be exuding sex from my pores ya know? Like what kind of shit is that. I would totally understand if you just kicked me out right this very instant, I mean I can't believe--"  

He reached up on his elbows and kissed her softly to silence her. Cora, love her to death, got really chatty when she was nervous or embarrassed. Which was also absolutely adorable.   

"At the risk of calming you down a little bit, I feel that I should communicate with you that you could come out in clown makeup and I would still find you utterly and completely sexy. It's not your body, Cor, it's every single thing about you, and I'm totally here for all of it. Let's just take it slow."  

"Slow... okay, yea, slow."  

Cora wasn't the only one who was awkward. They spent some time just kissing because kissing is fun and everyone should do it. Adam didn't know where to put his hands without going too far, and often times Cora would have to show him where to put them. But they worked through it together.  

Eventually more clothes were discarded and Adam had gently rolled until he was on top nestling himself between Cora's thighs. His lips went immediately to her neck causing her to groan. Her fingers smoothed out over his back only to touch the bumpy edges of scarred skin that was there. Adam froze at her touch, eyes closing in embarrassment and fear. She looked up at him instantly understanding, just like she always understood. He'd told her some things, but not much, not enough.  

"Can I see?"  

He paused before nodding slowly, edging over and giving her room. As she saw the scars it was like she was seeing all of him. He was more naked and vulnerable than he'd ever been in his life. The only thing that made it worth it was her. Because she was worth it.  

And then out of nowhere he felt her lips quickly press into his skin. They were cool and felt lovely and he couldn't help but feel like it was the best feeling he'd ever felt. He'd gone through his whole life feeling like there was this ugly piece of him that was no one was ever gonna love. His dad hadn't loved it, his mom hadn't even loved it enough to stick around for more than a few months. But Ian and Mickey had. And now so did Cora, and she loved it in a way no one else could making him feel lightweight and free. Every kiss unlocked another chain until the burden was completely erased and all that was left was love. 

*** 

"I'm gonna . . . go upstairs, start a bath." Ian murmured.  

"Alright." Pause. "Wait. Ian, no!"  

But it was too late. His husband had jumped over the couch like a fucking Olympic track runner and was heading for the stairs. Mickey may have been a little older and maybe he didn't spend all day on a fucking treadmill, but he still had instincts.  

"I just wanna call and check on him!"  Ian whined.  

Mickey met him at their bedroom where Ian was reaching for his cell-phone. He'd been trying to call him all weekend and Mickey had managed to keep him busy by tying his dick in knots, and not letting him come up for air, but fuck he'd been hungry and let the fucker out of his sight for two seconds. Ian was big and strong, but Mickey was stocky and ruthless. He immediately tackled Ian down to their bed shoving the fuckers face into the bed in an attempt to suffocate him.  

"Drop the fucking phone!"  

"Ouch, dammit, Mickey!"  

Mickey had pulled his arm behind his back and was squeezing his fingers on the cusp of breaking them.  

"Drop the phone and I'll let you go!"  

"OWWWWWWWW!" 

Ian was screaming bloody murder, Mickey was trying to keep him pinned, and then he bit him the little bitch like the little bitch he was and then they were tumbling and wrestling on the bed. It continued until they both got too tired to move collapsing on the bed in exhaustion. Mickey reached over and elbowed him in the stomach for good measure. Jackass.  

*** 

 

Mickey was sitting at the table watching Ian scrub at the counter for the third time while his breakfast went uncooked. Amy was back from her sleepover but still barely awake watching cartoons. The front door opened and Ian jerked uncontrollably before quickly schooling his features to look normal. Mickey chuckled at his dumbass of a husband earning himself a middle finger.   

Adam stumbled in dropping his backpack on the floor and practically floating through the house. Ian and Mickey watched on as he took his seat at the table, Ian wearing a face of nerves and confusion, and Mickey one of unimpressed boredom. To Adam, they might as well as not even been there. He was on a cloud of ecstasy and no one was gonna bring him down. Teenagers.  

 

 

*** 

 

Adam burst in the house with a vengeance dropping his backpack at the door and running into the house.  

"Hey! We don't drop backpacks on the floor!" Ian yelled. 

"Where’s the mail?!"  

"It's on the table, why?"  

He darted towards the table as Mickey finally made his way inside grumbling like the old man he was about Adam running like a maniac. 

"Holy shit...Holy shit!!"  

"Language dammit!" Mickey yelled.  

"What is going on with you?" Ian asked.  

"I got in! I fuckin' got in!"  

"Got into what?"  

Adam ignored them jumping on his parents for vicious bear hugs. 

"I got into college you guys. I'm gonna go to college!" The happy, weeping teen gasped.  

Mickey and Ian locked eyes over his head each begging the same question with their stare.  

_Did you know he was applying to college?_  

Parenting, folks.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this just kind of happened. I wanted to kind of bring Adam's story to a close in terms of actual arc and change, not to say that he's gonna disappear from the story at all, and I thought what better way to do that than to have him become a legal adult. In terms of his journey of getting into college, just in case anyone thinks it's far fetched, I too applied to a private college in my state and got in. I was given 10k with my admission and because it's a private institution there were many other opportunities to get money, and I ended up being awarded a full ride minus room and board. It's not impossible, it's fucking hard and it's a lot of work, but it's the only thing I know so I thought I'd give Adam that little arc as well. Really this is going to just mold into another part of the story that I have in mind, so don't mind me I'm still working my ass off on this long ass fic I promise. 
> 
> comments and kudos always appreciated.   
> I love you guys and thank you so much for the overwhelming support!


	29. In-Laws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is 46. Ian is 44. Adam graduates high school and flees from the nest leaving things up in the air again. It's time for a change again and his partner in crime just may be the last person you'd ever expect.

Mickey is 46 when Adam graduates from high school and Jesus, fuck, does he feel old. It's a really big ordeal because Adam only gets eight tickets, and everyone automatically expects that they're getting a ticket. Gallaghers can never just stay in their fucking lane and leave people alone, so they all fly out to see it because apparently when it comes to last names, if you are at all, you are, so Adam is automatically worthy of the graduation visit. The fucker couldn't have cared less though cause that just meant more people spoiling him with money. Not that he would need it with the full ride scholarship he was getting, because why not be a total overachiever? 

Mickey is 46 when his kid graduates from high school. Fucking 46. And if that's not a reason for an existential crisis, what else could be?  

It's the night before the ceremony and all of their family is staying over, because hotels are too expensive for that family of cheapskates. But every time they're around it blasts Mickey back to the past, and not in a good way. The good news is that Ian can tell, and he's always around to drag whatever's bothering him out.  

"You okay?" Ian asked crawling close and throwing his arms around Mickey.  

He shrugged. "Just feel old. How the fuck am I forty-six right now?"  

"Awww, Mick, we're just aging. Doesn't mean we're getting old, or that we're losing something. I don't know about you, but I'd take forty-four over fifteen any day."  

"Easy for you to say, asshole, you've had a six pack for the past twenty years."  

Ian chuckled rolling over on top of him and kissing his nose.  

"And you've had crazy arm muscles since you were like eleven." He grinned letting his arms travel down Mickey's body to his ass. "And the fattest ass I've ever seen since I had the right mind to look at it."  

Mickey snorted and shoved playfully at Ian's face. "Shut the fuck up."  

"I'm serious! We are not old. We're fucking killing it. Looks at us. We're first generation financially stable Gallaghers and Milkoviches. We got a kid going to one of the best schools in the state on a scholarship. Amy made the honor roll. You've built fucking skyscrapers and schools and shit. You provide for your family in a way you never even got to witness, never got to learn. You're good, just naturally good, Mick. If this is old, who the fuck cares?"  

He sighed hiding his face in Ian's neck. "I know. You're right I just . . . I don't fuckin know, man."  

"What is it, Mick?"  

"It's dumb... really dumb."  

"Probably." Ian smiled. "But, you can tell me anyway."  

Goddamn husband, always being understanding and attentive and shit. Ugh.  

"Think I'm just tired. Most of the crew I've been working with for years has moved on. All my friends are so below me I don't even get to work with them anymore. And the higher I get in my field, sure I make a shiton more money, but the corporate greed is so fucking gross the southside in me is constantly itching. I know at this point we've lived in New York longer than we ever lived in Chicago so I guess that makes it even more stupid. But it's just... it's not fun anymore. I think I was so happy to have an actual profession and make money and provide for you and all that shit. I guess it's just wearin' off a little." 

Ian stared on as Mickey explained his feelings, a frown growing increasingly big on his face. Mickey didn't open up like that very often, no matter how hard he tried. It just wasn't in his nature. To hear the way things were and had been affecting Mickey for, maybe years hurt. Because that your husband and you want your husband to be happy with his life in anyway he seems fit.  

"Well you should quit."  

Mickey genuinely laughed. "It's a little late for the whole live young, wild, free, and broke thing don't you think? We got kids to think about now. Kids you wanted."  

Ian's frowned deepened. "Is it my fault? I mean, are you staying at your job because of me?"  

Mickey couldn't help but roll his eyes, before flipping over on top of his husband.  

"No, Freckles, it ain't your fault. And of course I'm staying for you. And Amy. And Adam. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?"  

"You're supposed to do what makes you happy." Ian practically whined.  

"Not in today's world, sweet cheeks." He smiled fingers running through Ian's hair. "I'll be okay." 

"I don't want you to be okay. I want you to be ecstatic about life. Not wake up everyday dreading the day ahead because you're going to a job you're not passionate about. If you're not happy at work, quit. It's as simple as that. We've got more than enough money."  

"I can't believe you're even suggesting this. You want financial stability! It's the reason I went to school, Ian!"  

"Shhh." Ian hissed checking to see if anyone woke up. "Of course financial stability is great, dumbass. But we're stable now.. We own our home, Adam has a kickass scholarship, and you started putting money away for Amy's college as soon we adopted her. It's time to stop living for us and live for yourself, Mick, fuck."  

Mickey peered at him and it was obvious that he was scared and confused, but it was okay because they were conversing, they were remaining open to each other so that things didn't fester.  

"I'm afraid that if I leave what I've got right now that I'll never find anything that makes me happy." He admitted.  

Ian nodded pulling him closer so that their chests touch.  

"But if you don't try, you'll never find out. It's okay to be scared to try something new. You're not in it alone. I'll be by your side the whole way."  

Mickey softened at that.  

"Promise?"  

"Promise."  

*** 

 

"Aw, fuck, Ian, don't cry." Adam groaned.  

It was picture time and Adam dressed in his little gown with his cap ready to go on to the next step of his life was making someone a little emotional. Adam was quickly smothered by a giant and his dwarf in crime until he was so warm that he couldn't care that he was being suffocated. And somewhere in there, they had to entered an alternate universe or something; that's the only explanation for why all of a sudden three grown men were crying into each other's arms. It was semi-pathetic, semi-adorable, depending on who you asked.  

"We're so fuckin' proud of you, kid." Mickey sniffed cupping Adam on the back of his head affectionately. "You did it." 

"In spite of everything and everyone." Ian agreed. "You're a badass."  

"Thanks, guys. For everything."  

It's an emotional day, but ultimately it's a victory. Another kid off the streets making something of himself, bettering himself in spite of all the shit that had been thrown so maliciously at him. Mickey and Ian were parents watching someone that was better off because of them, and if that wasn't terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. It was a win for everyone, it seemed.  

*** 

 

"How are you doing?"  

His knees shook and his hands trembled as he answered. It didn't matter how comfortable he ever got with this shit he was never completely comfortable.  

"I'm good. Adam is spending the summer on an internship with his girlfriend. Amy goes to this summer camp during the day, she's interacting with friends more having a great time and all that shit. Ian, he uh, he's cooking more than ever. Had me redecorate the kitchen and everything. Every time I come home it's something new and tastes fucking great."  

Danielle, who was his therapist, gave him the side eye before uncrossing and re-crossing her legs.  

"That's great, Mickey, it really is; but, I asked how you are doing."  

He took pause because, well, Mickey didn't really see what he'd described as something other than himself. Maybe that was the problem.  

"What do you mean?" He asked.  

Danielle smiled. "You have a habit of speaking about others instead of yourself. You think that by putting the spotlight on your family, you won't have to talk about yourself. I'm hip to you now Mr. Gallagher."  

He rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, doc. Same as always."  

"I think we've learned from experience that that’s not always the case."  

He sniffs at her and gives her his own little version of the chin that could only be caused from years of living with Ian. But ultimately she is there to help, something he'd been to hell and back trying to accept. It was so hard for him to believe a stranger wanting to help, but if anything Ian and foster care and Adam and Amy had changed his view on a lot of things. It also helped that Danielle had directed his group therapy as well, before taking him on as a full time patient.  

"I think I hate my job."  

There's a lot of questions and lot of back and forth, but he ultimately opens up to her about the point of his life that he's in and how unfulfilled he feels, and how that makes him feel like shit because he shouldn't feel that way at all. She tells him this story about what she did before becoming a therapist. About how she was this corporate higher up who got paid to run a tight ship and fire anyone who couldn't keep up.  About how she had gone to school wanting to make a difference, wanting to change things like so many others, and how she gotten sucked into the adult world of drear and pain. About how one day she'd just had enough and she walked out and never looked back. About how she eventually found this and that not only was she happier than ever, but she wouldn't go back to her old job for the world.  

"I think we become so obsessed with stability and with finances that we put it above everything else, and it leads to us forgetting about bigger more important things. Happiness isn't a want, Mickey; it's not something you should ever have to settle without. Happiness is a right; it's something you deserve, and if you're not getting that and you know why, it's your goddamn right to change that."  

"Yea, okay."  

*** 

"Hey." Ian smiled.  

Mickey was home from work and they had the house to themselves, a continuing occurrence as of late. He was sitting on the couch watching the Food Network when Mickey set all his stuff down and climbed next to him to nuzzle into the warmth of his husband.  

"Hey." He breathed happy to be home and comfortable.  

Ian immediately reached to rub his fingers through his hair in a comforting manner. Mickey practically preened at the touch. 

"How was your day?" Mickey asked.  

"Good. I uh am back down to a five minute mile. I worked with a couple really good clients today. Mandy stopped by for lunch . . . I've been watching a chopped marathon again and I think I'm gonna work on incorporating gooseberry into a recipe. It has a rich, tangy flavor and I think it could taste amazing in a reduction, sauce concoction."  

Mickey smiled up at his goofy, cooking idiot and just shoving his face deeper into Ian's stomach.  

"Sounds fuckin' awesome."  

"Yea." Ian grinned equally as goofy. "How was your day?"  

"I uh went to therapy. Told her all my shit, of course. I had lunch with Tom and Mark, they just wanted to hang out, I guess. Oh and I quit my job."  

Mickey was met with a huge grin and wide eyes before Ian shot out and punched him.  

"Jackass! You can't just drop shit like that. I'm so proud of you Mick. You deserve to find something that makes you happy." The redhead beamed.  

"You're sure? We've got plenty of money to live comfortably. I just . . . I don't wanna take anything away from you. From our family."  

He reached for Mickey's face thumb easing over the fine lines of stress and time. But damn was he still beautiful and perfect and sexy. And damn did he still deserve the world.  

"I'd move back into our first apartment with the radiator and the shitty neighbors and the crime rates any day if it meant you were happy. You give me everything every single day. This, this you take, and you don't fuckin' think about it, okay?"  

"Yea, okay." He mumbled.  

"Good, now go put something more comfortable on while I make us a celebration dinner."  

His celebration dinner is a pan seared duck finished off in the oven with a balsamic reduction with white wine and a beautiful garlic mash. Mickey knows this because Ian walks him through it step by step when it's plated before him, only after he takes a picture for the insta of grams. His husband had like ten thousand followers on that dumbass app all so people could _look_ at pictures of food. To each their own.  There's also carrots glazed with spices and herbs and shit. His man is a fuckin' beast in the kitchen and nothing could make Mickey more attracted to it all.  

"Shit, man you keep feeding me like this and I'm gonna have to show the world." He groaned as he licked his fork clean.  

Ian gleamed. "There's cookies for dessert if you want. I had a lot of caramel left from baking with Amy, so I made a  kind of cinnamon, and nutmeg spiced cookie dough and put them in the center so that when you pull the cookie apart it just melts ya know?"  

This only sent Mickey into a bigger twist of orgasmic hysteria. And nothing did Ian's heart better.  

"Soon as I can move I'm gonna suck your dick."  

Marriage, bitches.  

*** 

The first day Mickey was unemployed he took Amy to summer camp and then it was full-on him day. He went shopping and bought himself a couple of t-shirts that he could cut the sleeves off, a physical and emotional release. And then he went home where Ian was waiting with anal beads and warming lube, another physical release.  

"I love you." Mickey huffed body sprawled out like jelly on the bed. 

Ian grinned kissing his chest. "I love you too. It's nice to have you home before midnight for once."  

"Please, you'll be tired of me by the end of the week and kicking my ass back out to work."  

"Mmm, no, never." He whined wrapping himself around Mickey.  

"Good."  

They basked in the beauty of being together. When you get older you start to want simpler things. Even Ian, who was notorious for being over the top with everything didn't want some big procedure. They watched some of their favorite movies together. Mickey walked to the gas station and got them a six pack and their favorite candy, snickers and starbursts cause his husband was fruity, and they just sat on the couch all day laughing at dumbass movies that made their hearts feel good. It was simple, but it was them.  

Mickey ran his hands along Ian's bare chest and smiled as he bit his lip.  

"I could fuckin' get used to this." He mumbled.  

"Hmmm, me too."  

That first night made every day of his construction job worth it: the late nights, the stress, and the time away from home. He'd made his money, had been smart with his money, and they were well off. Things were okay. And he just got to sit there with his husband and his daughter, Jesus Christ was that a loaded sentence, and do jack shit. It was the American Dream. He went to bed with a fully belly and warm long, gangly arms wrapped around him so fucking tenderly his body practically melted into sleep. If this was unemployment, he couldn't fault it.  

*** 

Lip was in town. The Gallagher reunions had grown sparse over the years with everyone buy with their own lives and families. Lip visited the least not because he had kids or a wife at home, but because he was usually off inventing shit. He was successful in whatever it is that he did, Mickey wasn't really sure, and neither did Ian for that matter. But every now and again Mr. smarty pants would find himself in the city and being the asshole that he was, feel the need to come stay at their house instead of the millions of five star hotels that he could definitely afford. At least Ian was cooking dinner....  

"Mickey! You're looking.... exceptionally grumpy as always. You're continuous dedication to cutting the sleeves off t-shirts is truly inspiring." Lip grinned.  

Mickey promptly closed the door in his face and locked it causing Amy to giggle and squeal beside him. They continued to laugh together as Lip created a symphony of doorbell rings and hard knocks against the door. Ian found them there laughing their asses off and couldn't hide the smirk on his face.  

"You guys we talked about this." He sighed unlocking the door to an irritated Lip. "Hey, bro."  

"You know I take it back, your shirts are stupid." Lip muttered throwing his arms around his brother.  

Mickey smirked down at Amy. "And he's supposed to be the genius."  

Ian sent Lip to his room to get settled while Amy stayed in the kitchen with her parents watching on as Ian kicked ass in the kitchen. Mickey was actually exceptionally grumpy but that was only because of assface.  

"Why do we invite him over again?" He asked for the umpteenth time leaning against the counter with crossed arms.  

Ian chuckled. "Because he's my brother and I love him and if we didn't I'd never get to see him. And you like to keep me happy so I keep making you happy, kapeesh?"  

Mickey peeked over at Amy who was oblivious as a child could be and sighed.  

"Yea, kapeesh. You better make sunshine come out of my ass tonight is all I'm saying." He said heading to the fridge for a beer.  

"Somethin'll be coming out of you ass, that's for sure."  

Amy squinted at her fathers. "Daddy Mickey has to poop?" 

Jesus.  

Dinner was a grandiose ordeal as it had been since Ian had fallen in love with the kitchen. Lip's eyes turned as big as the plates the food was served on. Ian had gone all out cooking all day to serve a rack of lamb with some crazy ass sauce that had everyone drooling. He had a warm salad with green beans and other green leafy shit that tasted so fucking good it should've been illegal. There were slow roasted potatoes with cheese and shit. Holy fuck it was all so good.  

"Damn, Ian, when'd you learn to cook like this?"  

Ian beamed at the approval. "Mick's grams taught me most of the basics. Julienning, how to cook rise and pasta and shit, how to tell when all my meats are different stages. Then I just started fooling around until I got better. Mick's my guena pig, and Amy here is my sou chef."   

"Guena pig huh, maybe you should up the salads there buddy." Lip smirked patting Mickey on the stomach.  

Everything seemed to freeze at that. Ian's smiled instantly evaporated and Mickey just kind of clammed up. Sure, Amy was oblivious and continued to eat, but tension immediately settled amongst the adults of the table. Everyone was silent and  Mickey just kind of shoved food around his plate stewing and stewing until the anger showed on his face and his eyebrows scrunched up. Ian winced as his husband yanked away from the table and stomped up the stairs.  

"Was it something I said?"  

"You're such a fucking asshole, Lip." He muttered pulling away from the table. 

Lip was left at the table with Amy who shook her head at her uncle like the sass queen she was. 

"Nice going."  

Upstairs Mickey was digging through his dresser for his stress gum, a tactic he'd learned in group therapy. Ian let him pace for a minute to get some of the frantic energy out, but got nervous when he began to slam his knuckles into the wall. It was way too close to self-harm for his liking, so he quickly caught Mickey by the waist and pulled him close.  

"Since when do we listen to my dumbass of a brother huh?" He murmured in Mickey's ear rubbing comfortingly at his hip.  

Mickey whined eyes shut tight. "Since you fucking turned me into a human being with feelings and shit." 

Ian chuckled. "He didn't know. He's a fucking idiot, but he didn't know. And there's no way he was serious because you're fucking hot. And I don't mean that in a random boring old marriage way, I mean _hot._ So hot that you shouldn't have sleeves when your arms look that good. I'm as into your body as I ever have been and all that matters is what you think anyway. Right?"  

"Right."  

Mickey sighed trying to let Ian's words soothe what Lip had burned within him. It'd been a while since he'd been hit so abruptly with his body image issues.  

"I think we should go downstairs and eat lamb and potatoes and scrape our plates clean. And then I'm gonna bring you a big ass slice of chocolate cake and afterwards we'll go for a walk around the neighborhood. Let Amy lead us on some wild adventure. Sound fun?" 

He wrapped himself around Mickey like a protective cocoon jostling him softly and kissing at his neck and cheeks. They lie for a few minutes as Mickey's heart beat returned to normal and the embarrassment no longer showed in his cheeks. If there was one thing he hated it was to show weakness, and showing that weakness in front of Lip had to make it so much worse.  

"Just fucking . . . don't let go of me, alright?" He snapped with no heat.  

"I wouldn't dream of it."  

They walked back downstairs hand in hand where Amy was holding the potatoes hostage from Uncle Lip, literally holding the entire bowl in her tiny hands and moving it anytime he got close.  

"Daddy Mickey likes potatoes the best, and you were mean so you get none shithead." She glared eyebrows doing a nearly flawless Mickey imitation. 

It was terrifying for Lip. It was heartwarming for Mickey.  

"That's my girl." He smirked kissing her plum on the forehead as they rejoined the table.  

Mickey and Lip caught each other's gazes and Ian was nervous something would happen. Apparently something in Mickey's expression told Lip to back the fuck off for once and dinner went a lot more smoothly because of it. True to his word, Ian held desperately onto Mickey's hand the entire meal more prideful than ever to see Mickey eat his entire plate clean. His man was badass and sexy as could fucking be no matter what any so called "genius" had to say.  

They go for a walk after dinner, much to Lip's bafflement and then there's movie watching and cuddling and giving Amy a bath together. And then they disappear for the rest of the night doing god's knows what without a word to him. Hospitality, folks.  

*** 

 

Ian had to work and Amy had camp, so Mickey was stuck at the house with assclown of the year. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Lip was actually trying to be a decent human being. Ugh.  

"So, what are we doing today?" Lip asked plopping down on the couch next to Mickey.  

Mickey's eyebrows did a thing. "We ain't doin' shit, man. You're a total fuck nut and I don't like you. Shoo now."  

"Such harsh words from my brother."  

"In law. I'm your brother in-law. That's about as much familial ties as humans and monkeys. We're not friends Lip, fuck off." He muttered. 

Lip sighed. "Look I know I made you pissy and everything with the whole salad thing but--"  

"See now that's the thing, you don't know. You don't have a fucking clue. You think because you got people blowing smoke up your ass for that shit you do that you know everything, that you're better than everyone, but you're not. You don't. You say whatever the fuck you want about me, but at least I changed. At least I fucking evolved. You're the same fucking guy you were twenty years ago. And I'm supposed to feel bad and let you rip me a new one? Fuck you."  

He stomped off after that leaving Lip to stew in his confusion. Something about Mickey's reaction was bugging him. He wasn't just his usual pissy, grumpy self. He seemed more affected than that. Almost like he was hurt. And if there was one thing Lip was it was an asshole, but malicious? Not so much. Once upon a time he wouldn't have given a fuck about Mickey Milkovich, but given their history—most importantly his history with Ian—he found some semblance of sympathy in his cold, cold heart. And so there was really only one thing he could do. Snoop.  

"Hey broski." Lip murmured lifting himself up onto the counter as Ian continued to cook around him.  

Mickey was outside with Amy looking for Pokemon... He'd complained for fifteen minutes about how this generation didn't know shit about pokemon but eventually he got out there. This gave Lip the chance to talk to Ian alone.  

"What do you want, Lip?" Ian asked catching his bullshit while perfectly pan searing the halibut they'd be having for dinner.  

Lip flailed. "What makes you think I want something?"  

Ian stuck his chin out at him and raise an eyebrow in a mysteriously Milkovich like fashion officially giving Lip the heeby jeebies.  

"Alright, alright put the fuckin' chin and eyebrows away, Gallavich, Jesus." He huffed.  

Ian only beamed. "That is such an adorable name for us!"  

"Focus, Ian."  

"Right, right. What is it?"  

Lip sighed. "At dinner the other night, that thing with Mickey? What was that all about?"  

Ian instantly froze, his good mood souring so quick Lip almost got whiplash just staring at him. Silence immediately descended upon them as Ian went about cooking and pretending as if Lip didn't exist. The temperature of the room dropped and confusion stirred.  

"Ah c'mon, Ian. I'm a dick, sure but I'm not evil. Obviously I stepped on some toes."  

Ian shook his head. "You don't know what you're talking about, Lip."  

"Yea, Mickey said the same thing. That's why I'm asking you."  

"Mick's been through a lot. A hell of a lot more than you and I. He's dedicated his life to his family and bends over backwards for me at least thirty times a day. Maybe he just doesn't like when you come into _his_ home and try and put him down when he's allowing you to stay here to begin with. And instead of busting you in your mouth like you probably deserved, he's big enough, now, to walk away."  

It wasn't the whole truth but it was more than enough to hopefully allow Lip to understand the situation.  

"I mean, yea, sure, but isn't he a little too old to get upset over weight jokes? I mean what is he, a chick?"  

Ian dropped his spoon and turned defiantly to his brother.  

"Jesus will you shut the fuck up?! I know your life goal is to get under Mickey's skin and all, but it's enough. You hurt him last night. And the only reason I haven't landed you on your ass for it is because Amy doesn't need to see that. For the first time in his life he's living for himself and he's happier for it. If you ruin that I will ruin you."  

They were interrupted by the door bursting open and Amy squealing as she ran for Ian to tell him all about her adventure. Lip and Mickey caught each other's eye before each quickly looking away. Ian sent Amy to clean up for dinner and Mickey waited shyly for his turn with his husband, which he was happy to give him.  

"You have fun?" He murmured snaking his arms around Mickey's waist and pulling him close. 

Mickey snorted. "If by fun you mean, am I absolutely exhausted? Damn right."  

"Aw, my poor baby."  

He kissed his nose and nuzzled him hard, Mickey preening at the touch and smiling hard. And then they were making out like Lip wasn't even in the room. Some things never change. 

*** 

"Pssst. Psssst Mickey. Mickey!"  

Mickey flailed awake leading with his fists and accidently smashed Lip in the face.  

"Ow mother—fuck!" He hissed quietly.  

"What in the hell are you doing, Gallagher?" Mickey mumbled.  

"Trying to make amends goddammit. Would you just put some clothes on and come on. It's the least you can do."  

"Least I can do? You're lucky Ian doesn't let me keep my gun under my pillow anymore, pretty boy." He grunted slowly getting out of bed.  

"Oh what the fuck!" Lip groaned as Mickey stood stark naked before him. 

Mickey grinned. "My man likes me bare in bed. Makes for less hassle."  

"Well that is just.... way more information than I ever needed in my life. I'll be downstairs pouring bleach in my eyes while you get dressed."  

Twenty minutes later Mickey was being dragged to a bar despite the fact that it was after one in the morning and his companion happened to be one of his least favorite people on the planet. In-laws.  

Lip's strategy was to get Mickey hammered. They started with back to back to back . . . to back shots and he was sure that that would certainly have his lips loosening. Lip had forgotten one minor detail and that was that at heart Mickey was a Milkovich and despite Frank, a Gallagher's liver didn't match up to a Milkovich's.  

"Man," Lip's voice crackedas he leaned sloppily on Mickey's shoulder. "I just like fuckin with you cause you always give it back to me. We're like Rocky and Apollo, Tom and Jerry, fucking.... Tommy and Angelica."  

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "You lost me at that last one."  

"Tommy and Angelica? You didn't watch Rugrats growing up?"  

"No I didn't watch Rugrats growing up!" He taunted in a high pitched voice. "Yet, I'm the fag; yea, okay."  

Lip laughed and then forgot about the conversation completely when his glass ran empty. IT took them a minute to get back on track.  

"Why can't we just not get along without hating each other. That's all I want, Mickey. This weird genuine hatred thing is making me feel like a dick. And I really like being unaware of my dickness." He sighed.  

Mickey couldn't help but find humor in his drunken brother in law. He had a suspicious feeling that nothing that was said or done that night would be remembered in the morning, so despite the fact that he wasn't nearly as drunk as Lip, Mickey was a little more willing to open up. After of course ordering something top shelf on Lip's dime.  

"I had—have maybe... an eating disorder since my like late thirties."  

Lip hiccuped almost joking on his beer. "You're fucking serious?"  

Mickey shrugged dismissively. "That's what they call it, anyway. I think that's why Ian became some sort of masterchef. He tries to keep things new and exciting so I don't remember that he's being a mother hen and basically nursing me with every bite. I lost about fifty pounds and uh... you just—you don't know or care how hard I've worked to get through that so we should probably just drop it." 

"But . . . you're like hot." Lip responded dopily. 

Excuse me?"  

"I mean don't get me wrong I like 'em stick thin, but that doesn't make thickness any less attractive I mean it's just a preference. Your ass is bigger than my last five girlfriends combined. And I'm pretty sure you could beat the shit out of me in an arm wrestle contest. Those seem like the two most important physical factors in picking a mate if your gay, so that would make you a catch." He explained as if it was obvious to the average moron.  

Mickey rubbed at his temples in incredulous confusion. "Fuckin' Gallaghers."  

Five beers later and Mickey joins Lip on the highway to shitfaced. They're more friendly to each other than they ever have been and ideas begin to spew. Lip wants them to backpack through Europe. Mickey thinks that's the funniest, dumbest fucking thing he's ever heard. All in all it's a win for the brother-in-laws.  

"I'd like to open a fuckin' restaurant."Mickey mused goofy over his whisky.  

"Really?"  

"Yea. Like give Ian a place to do all his crazy shit in the kitchen. We'd be our own boss. I know it's risky which is why I've never brought it up, but how fuckin' cool would that be? To have a place that’s ours? Something to keep in the family, something good. I just wanna make something good for once."  

Some people get drunk and safe fucked up shit. Mickey's default setting was fucked up shit, so get drunk seemed to make him oddly sentimental. He shrugged to himself and downed the rest of his drink only to have his attention brought to the fact that Lip was loudly weeping beside him.  

"That's so beautiful man."  

Fuckin' Gallaghers indeed.  

*** 

 

Ian woke up not wrapped around his man, but instead being jumped on by a small, yet ferocious, child. When Amy was awake _everyone_ had to be awake, and he could only respect the power of her voice and tiny feet.  

"Alright, alright, I'm up. Where's daddy Mickey?" He yawned.  

She continued to jump with glee. "He's downstairs cuddling with uncle Lip."  

"Huh?"  

He was able to discreetly find his pants before lifting Amy up on the pedestal that was his hip and heading for the stairs. Sure enough, on their couch was his husband draped over the side of the couch with Lip half sprawled out on top of him. It was the most ridiculous and funniest thing either of them had ever seen, and they took extreme pleasure in laughing at them for it.  

By the time the two men woke up with hangovers from hell, Ian and Amy could only eat their breakfasts and watch with glee.  

"What the fuck happened." Lip muttered grabbing at his head.  

"Whatever you do, don't look at your bank account." Mickey mumbled heading to find him a steady stream of coffee.  

It's a rough day all around, but something magical had to have happened because the tension between Mickey and Lip seemed to have evaporated. They didn't avoid each other anymore, didn't glare or talk shit. They were able to actually co-exist, which was the weirdest thing for Ian to see. But, it felt good. By the time Lip's trip was over it seemed that they'd actually managed to grow closer and all was good.  

A couple weeks later, Mickey was grocery shopping with a loud ass child bouncing off the aisles beside him when he got the call.  

"Mickey! Just the guy I wanted to talk to." Lip practically smirked through the phone.  

Mickey huffed. "I'm assuming so, seeing as you called me, jackass. What is it?" 

"Now is that anyway to talk to your future business partner?"  

"Either get to the point or get the fuck off my phone."  

Okay so maybe they hadn't grown all that close after all.  

"A buddy of mine got the jump on a listing out there in New York. Perfect location. Says he can hook me up with anything we need to make the business successful. Looks like you and Ian get your pa and pa place after all." 

Mickey stopped in the middle of the store. "You fuckin' with me?"  

"'Course not. Ian makes damn good food, Mick. Restaurant level food. We're southside, we got more money than we know what to do with. I'll put up fifty percent, be a silent partner and you guys live out the rest of your days feeding foster kids and hopefully a couple of paying customers too.... What do you say?"  

"Shit... I say let's fuckin' go for it. It's only the riskiest business venture of them all. What could possibly go wrong."  

"Exactly! I'll see you more info later, let you make it a anniversary present or something. I know how sappy you gays are."  

"And this is where I hang up." Mickey muttered.  

"Stay gold, ponyboy!" Lip yelled before he hung up.  

In-laws.  


	30. Pop and Pop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian is 45 and it's time to celebrate the big 2-0. Their anniversary is a big deal to everyone . . . accept maybe Ian and Mickey. They have other plans for each other. Some of which Mickey knows more about than Ian. But it's all love.

Ian is 45 when Mickey and he celebrate twenty years of marriage. And after twenty years they know each other pretty well. Well enough to both wake up early to surprise the other, to point where they just wake up and glare at each other's dumb, goofy fucking faces. And there's nowhere else either of them would rather be.  

"I was gonna make you breakfast, asshole." Ian muttered kissing his husband jovially.  

Mickey grinned against his lips. "I was gonna buy you breakfast, asshole."  

Ian laughed and the sound still made Mickey's toes curl and heart swirl. It was so gay.  

"Now what are we gonna do?"  

And the fucker licked his lips because he's an asshole and Mickey totally . . . just did not hate him at all. He loved him so fuckin' much.  

"I guess you'll just have to settle for an orgasm and then you can take me out to lunch." He responded nonchalantly.  

Ian could only grin at his husband's forwardness remembering a time where he'd rather die than vocalize  their sex life, a time where he was all mumbles and harsh grunts.  

"Are you insinuating we won't be done until lunchtime?"  

"Insinuation implies possibility, I'm talking about a sure fuckin' thing."  

"Fuck, I love you." Ian mumbled pulling Mickey in by his neck for a heated kiss.  

This idea that sex gets boring in old age or in a monogamous relationship was nothing but utter bullshit. They loved each other and there was no greater joy in the world than showing each other that love in dirty, kinky, beautiful ways. 

"Shit, Mickey, that's so hot." 

He was on his knees bent over so that his ass stuck loud and proud in the air as he sucked wetly at Ian's prick. His husband had a beautiful penis, one worthy of sucking. But, he didn't want it to end that way, so he pulled off with a wanton plop before giving the base a rough squeeze.  

"If I ask you to do something for me, would you?" He whispered fingers jerking at the skin just under the head.  

Ian's body bowed off the bed. "If you asked me to kill the president, I'd Lee Harvey Oswald that shit, right now."  

"Simmer down, would you?" Mickey chuckled. "I was just gonna ask that when you finish, whenever you're ready to finish, just make sure you do it in me. Please?"  

Ian would go to his grave saying that Mickey batted his eyelashes in that moment, giving his cock another infuriating lick right after he said, as if Ian was in any remote position to tell this man no.  

"Yea. Of fuckin' course not would you come here and let me touch you."  

Mickey beamed at that. "So pushy."  

They lie intertwined without a breath of space between them going back and forth with hungry, open mouth kisses. Ian was a dominating person and couldn't help himself from shoving his tongue in Mickey's mouth, fingers scratching needily through his scalp as he sucked on his lips. Mickey's thigh was propped up against Ian's hip lining their cocks up with starling precision leaving them to rut desperately against each other.  

"Your cock is fucking beautiful." Mickey groaned sucking at the hallow of Ian's throat.  

Ian hummed. "Can I give it to you?"  

"Fuck, yes."  

Condoms weren't really something they did anymore. For years Mickey had insisted on them due to Ian's sexual history when he was manic, mostly by Dr. Adam's recommendations, and as much as it had hurt, Ian respected that. But, Ian had never gone back to that moment in his life. He worked his ass off to handle his disease and to make sure he never hurt Mickey like that again. Plus, Mickey once did a calculation on how much they spent on magnums in a month and had blown a head gasket for like twenty minutes. There was also an empty threat that Ian needed to start washing and reusing them, but they were so monogamous it wasn't even funny. So, with a lot of time and a lot of growth and love . . . Mickey was getting barebacked on the regular like he fucking deserved.  

"Jesus Christ, Ian." Mickey moaned as Ian slid home in one harsh thrust. 

"Always so tight for me, so fucking perfect." 

He sent a sharp slap against Mickey's right cheek before pulling at the two to feel where his dick was tugging at his rim. Mickey couldn't help but vocalize how good it felt. And it did feel so fuckin' good. They were locked together stewing under hot sheets and unbearable blankets, but it could only add to that hysteria heightening every ounce of pleasure that they were feeling.  

Ian kept moving inside of him, his hips smacking against his husband's ass constantly. Mickey held on for dear life, arms wrapped around Ian's sweaty shoulders and they rutted into each other in pure desperation.  

"Is it good?" Ian gasped as he dug his fingers into Mickey's hips.  

He nodded shakily. "Y—Yea. So fuckin' good. More. More, please."  

And he did.  

They tumbled through their bed sometimes spending what felt like hours simply kissing and holding each other close before Ian's hips would start to punch the air out of Mickey's lungs and he would cry out like the whining bitch he was when it came to Ian. It was glorious and wonderful and so.... hot. They were locked together sharing sweat and cum and spit, the intimacy almost more stifling than the heat. When Mickey reached down to relieve a little bit of the pressure, Ian quickly slapped his hand away.  

"No." He whined in his ear. "I want you to cum untouched. I want . . . I want you to cum on me, Mick."  

"Fuck." Mickey's voice completely shattered.  

Ian got a firmer handle on Mickey's hips and then it was sharp, measured thrusts until he found that thing inside him that wouldn't let Mickey be quiet, wouldn't let him hold on to any control. Before he knew it Mickey was hiding his face under the covers, lips right next to Ian's ear as he fell to pieces under his hands.  

"Oh god. Oh god, Ian, you feel so good inside me." He whined. "Harder."  

Ian flipped them so that he was on top of him shifting the bed to creak steadily with every push of his hips. Mickey's cock was almost purple leaking a steady stream of pre-cum along his belly. Every pressing against his prostate was shoving him closer and closer to the that line. And Ian would do everything in his power to make it that much better for him.  

"You trust me?"  

Mickey could only nod, flustered and panting. 

"Tell me when you're there."  

Meanwhile he was still jackhammering away at Mickey's prostate like it was the world's worst pothole or something, and Mickey didn't have to do much but hold on tight and try to remember to breathe. Easier said than done.  

His body bowed off the bed for the umpteenth time that morning as he started to clench down on his husband's cock.  

"T—There. Right _there_! I'm gonna cum—shit."  

Ian quickly rolled them back over pulling Mickey on top of him by his neck effectively cutting off his air supply while continuing to pound into him. And that was it. He was done for.  

"FUCK!"  

It was like that feeling you get when you close your eyes really tight and open them only to see black dots everywhere, but throughout your entire body. He felt like he was about to blackout and yet it felt like he was breathing for the first time all at once. It was overwhelming and over stimulating and he came like he never came before shooting long spurts of cum all over Ian's stomach while he sobbed with relief. The look on his face was enough to send Ian right after him. They collapsed in a pit of tangled limbs stuck together by semen and sweat and love. Marriage, bitches. 

"Twenty more years of that and my heart might give out." Mickey panted.  

"Shut the fuck up." Ian giggled nuzzling him hard. 

"Happy anniversary." Mickey hummed. "Fuckin, love you shitstain."  

"I love you too, babe. Happy anniversary."  

**** 

Ian is at work when the flowers come. After years and years of training at the same gym, Ian had moved up higher and higher in the company until he traded in his sweatpants for a desk and an office. He still had clients, though they were usually the higher up and more expensive ones, and he'd even dabbled with helping them with nutrition and eating plans. His pay was amazing and with Mickey not working, they didn't take too much of a hit, thankfully.  

"Ian! Something's here for you!" One of the teen working the counter called.  

He left his office to see the lilies waiting for them. They were a beautiful, bright orange, of course, and a card was waiting for him as well.  

_Google tells me that lilies are the flower for the 20_ _th_ _year. I picked the color because you've always been a beacon of light and all things good, even when everything around us was falling apart. It still feels like yesterday with you. I love you, more than you'll ever know. Happy Anniversary, Gallagher. -Mickey_  

"That is the sweetest thing I've ever read!" Tiffany squealed behind him.  

Ian nodded trying everything in his power not to cry in front of the employees. But, he was only a man, dammit! 

"I'll be in my office. No one disturb me." He sniffled practically running for the back.  

After ten minutes of hysterics and perpetual sobbing he felt the need to call this husband of his that thought it was acceptable to just turn him into the human equivalent of goo.  

"I am very pissed at you, Mikhail."  

"Woah, what is happening right now. Are you crying?"  

"Of course, I'm fucking crying. You know I'm emotional!" Ian whined. "That card was so sweet you asshole."  

Mickey couldn't help but smile to himself. His husband was a little nutty, but he wouldn't have him any other way. 

"Well uh—I'm sorry I made you cry. But, I'm not sorry I sent you flowers. You've made me soft in my old age." He hummed.  

"THAT'S SO SWEET!" Ian sobbed.  

Mickey let him blubber on for another ten minutes because that's what husbands do: they support your irrational emotions.  

"I'm sorry for overwhelming your sensitive emotions. And I hope your day is good. And I can't wait for the surprise dinner your family is currently failing at keeping a surprise. And I kinda love you like a whole lot. So, hurry back to me, or whatever." He sniffed.  

Ian wiped desperately at his tears to pull himself together before he could respond.  

"I love you too. And I didn't get you roses because I thought you'd hit me, but there is a six pack of the beer we used to drink from the Kash N' Grab shipped personally from Fiona, herself in the fridge. I also got you a whole basket of goodies that should be in the bathroom. That blue face mask you wanted, but wouldn't purchase because it's too expensive should be next to the beer as well. And I love you, again, and I'll be home as soon as I can."  

"Jesus, I love you so much." Mickey gave a little whine of his own. "Hurry." 

"I will, I promise."  

Back at the Gallagher-Milkovich home, Mickey was left to enjoy his own present. Amy was off with Fiona totally not planning them a surprise party, leaving him all by himself. Ian had gotten him a new exfoliant, one of the fancy ones that wasn't worth the money but felt fucking awesome. Mickey was really into his skincare, another thing that had taken him years to admit. But, like most things about Mickey, Ian found it incredibly sexy until Mickey had no choice but to give in. So, he put on his handy dandy headband, cause you gotta have a headband to keep your hair out of the mask guys, and then put on this cool ass metallic-like blue face mask that would hopefully rid him of wrinkles and imperfections. Then, he cracked open a beer and played video games because it was his anniversary and he deserved that shit.  

By the time Ian got home, Mickey was completely kicking ass and his facemask had dried nice and tight.  

"Now this is what I like to see. Every gay man's wet dream: a man who wears facemasks and plays video games. You're turning me on, Mick." Ian grinned placing his flowers on the dining room table to be envied by all who dare look.  

Mickey stuck his tongue out like the adult he was. Ian happily crawled onto the couch beside Mickey crowding into his space like the giant he was. Mickey didn't even try to act bothered by it anymore.  

"You like it?" He asked running his fingers along the drying mask.  

Mickey nodded. "Thank you."  

"You're welcome. Thank you for the flowers, they really are perfect."  

"Anything for you, huh?"  

Ian beamed at him for that rubbing his cheek against his knee like the puppy he was. 

"So . . .  we've got like three hours to kill until this surprise party..." Ian trailed off suggestively.  

They each glanced over at each other for a grand total of three seconds before they were running for the stairs. Oh, what a time to be alive.  

"Wait I gotta take the mask off!"  

"Hurry or I'm starting without you!" 

"Dammit, Ian!"  

*three hours later* 

"D—Don't stop." Mickey panted fingers digging into Ian's back. "Fuck."  

Ian's ears were ringing. Maybe because Mikey kept clenching down on him on every third thrust, or maybe it was just the phone on the side of the bed, either were possibilities. But, no it was totally the phone.  

Mickey, of course was oblivious, and Ian wasn't just gonna stop just because someone didn't have the decency to sent a text message.  

"What?! What is it?" Ian gasped into the phone, completely out of breath.  

"Dude you're late for your own anniversary!" Lip hissed.  

"Oh, shit."  

"What is it?" Mickey whined.  

"The party. We're late."  

"Fuck.... Well can we at least finish this first?"  

Ian found this especially funny.  

"Hey, listen you two freaks, if you guys aren't here soon Fiona will have all of our asses! This is not the time for your sex games!"  

Ian rolled his eyes. "We'll be there soon, calm your nuts."  

"We're gonna finish though, right?" Mickey grinned giving Ian's ass a playful grab.  

"Of course, we are."  

Ugh, so cute.  

*** 

 

"Where are they?" Fiona muttered. "The least those gay jackasses could do is be on time for their own surprise party!"  

Adam couldn't help but laugh. "Fi, I think we all know where they are."  

"Ugh, gross."  

There was a commotion at the door as the two assholes of honor walked in hand in hand all dressed nicely with hair still damp. But they were there, and that's what mattered. The festivities could finally begin.  

"SURPRISE!!!!" Everyone screamed.  

Ian at least tried to act surprised while Mickey just headed straight for the booze. While he had grown soft for a certain redhead over the ages, he still had a brute persona for... just about everyone else. Ian found him absolutely adorable though.  

Fiona hugged them both, squeezing tight like they were still her children and they couldn't have been happier. They were surrounded by family and friends that gave a shit about them individually and as a couple. It meant the world to them, even if they were too stubborn to admit it.  

It was really great to have everyone together. In a way it may have seemed that Mickey didn't have much representation, but he did. The Gallaghers were really, truthfully his family. Debbie's kids adored him and liked to hang onto his legs. His grandparents were there and beautiful and happy. Carl, along with his wife and daughter, still treated him like he was more amazing than he was. He realized he'd grown close to these people. They were invested in his happiness and his life, and he, theirs. It was weird, looking back on their history. But, it made him kind of happy to think about. They didn't all come together nearly as much as they used to, but apparently twenty years was reason enough, and that made him happy.  

"Where are you going?" Ian snorted as Mickey tried to shuffle past everyone.  

Mickey whined as Ian grabbed him by the waist, effectively stopping his shuffle.  

"Iaaaan, there's cake."  

He grinned. "We just finished dinner. Why don't you go say hi to your sister, you know she wants to introduce you to her boyfriend. They've been dating for almost six months, Mick."  

"I did say hi to her. Ian, I want cake." He mumbled hiding his face in Ian's neck.  

"Please? For me?"  

"Ugh, fine, but you better be waiting by that goddamn cake when I'm done."  

Ian pulled him in close for a hug, shamelessly grabbing at his ass in the process.  

"When we get home I'm gonna eat cake off parts of your body no one else gets to see. Don't mind me, just saving my appetite." He whispered.  

Mickey immediately glared up at him, because how was anyone supposed to focus with thoughts of their husband eating their cake both figuratively and literally for the rest of the night?  

"You're an asshole."  

"Love you, too, Munchkin."  

It's an amazing night full of food and dancing and alcohol. It feels more like a Gallagher get together than they'd had in a long time, but the heart of it still remains to be them, their love. They're presented with a gift of a video montage where Ian and Mickey were asked a plethora of questions about each other. Debbie had done the video editing and all that shit, and Fiona displayed it for all to see at the end of the party.  

"What's your favorite thing about Mickey?"  

"What's your favorite thing about Ian?" 

"His laugh."  

"His laugh."  

The men of the family find the fact that their answers were the same to be unfair and ridiculous. The women, of course, find it adorable.  

"He has a laugh that not a lot of people get to see. Where he really let's go and his face lights up and he's just open. It's the cutest damn thing ever." Ian explained further.  

"Biggest pet peeve about each other?"  

"He doesn't put the cap back on the toothpaste--" 

"Who the fuck has time to put the cap back on the toothpaste?!" Mickey asks all eyebrows and hand gestures. "I'm trying to pay the bills and keep a roof over our heads and he wants me to stop and put the cap back on the fuckin' toothpaste...Fuckin' Gallagher."  

More laughter ensues and Ian chuckles into Mickey's neck.  

"Favorite pastime together?"  

"Ah, Mickey's gonna be inappropriate." Ian snorted.  

"Every night at ten." Mickey smirked. "Twice on Saturdays. Three times on Sunday."  

Ian pinched Mickey on the arm at that graphic detail. Had he no chill? 

"Cuddling is my favorite. We get busy sometimes but we always make lots and lots and lots of time for . . . uh cuddling."  

Mickey pinched him back. "Oh very smooth there Chachi!"  

"Fuck off." Ian laughed.  

"How do you stay happily married for 20 years."  

"Ah shit." Mickey mumbled hiding his face in Ian's neck. 

He knew what was coming next.  

"You don't. Marriage is so much like life in the sense that nothing is ever gonna work out the way you want it to. And when people get this idea in their head that marriage makes everything better and fixes everything, they're setting themselves up for failure. I found someone I loved more than myself, more than anything else in the world. And he felt the same way. Does that mean we never fight? No, I wrestle that ginger giant to the floor at least once a month. We've had serious problems throughout our entire lives. But . . . I don't like who I am when I'm not with him. And I guess when you feel that way, when you want someone enough, you'll do whatever you have to hold on to them. So have I been happy every day of the last twenty years? No. But, I know that every year we're together is better than anything else I could ever have. You stay happy when you know you're all in for that person and you know that they're all in for you. I don't ever doubt what I got with him. I'm his. He's mine. We're fucking together and that's that." He finished looking grumpy and cute and manly.  

"Awwwwwww, Mick!" Ian beamed.  

Mickey's cheeks warmed as his husband pulled him in for a kiss. He couldn't help but think twenty more years of this wouldn't even be enough. Their family and friends cheered them on and they were sent home with a shitload of cake. Best anniversary ever.  

As the crowd began to thin and Ian was thanking and hugging every single individual who'd shown up, Mickey snuck over to Lip, who set a ring of keys in his hand.  

"This key opens the front, this one opens the back. Don't get cum on the fucking countertops, we got the health inspector coming in tomorrow." Lip sniped.  

Mickey rolled his eyes. "I'll do my best to aim for the red dot, asshole."  

"Red dot?"  

"And he's supposed to be the fuckin' genius. Red dot? The uvula?"  

"The uvu—Oh for fucks sakes ew!"  

He snickered as he walked off. Grossing Lip out was also his favorite pastime.  

****** 

"Miiiiiick there's a bubble bath waiting for us at home. Fiona's dropping Amy off first thing on her way to the airport, and I got plans. What are we doing?"  

Mickey groaned and laid his head on the steering wheel for a second.  

"Ian . . . I love you with all of my heart; I truly, truly do, but if you do not shut the entire fuck up your plans are about to be limited to what meals they offer in the hospital."  

"Fine." He snapped. "I'll just sit here in the dark while you threaten your loving, wonderful husband."  

Fuckin' Gallaghers.  

Ian had a blindfold on because _all_ Mickey was trying to do was make the little fucker happy and show him their goddamn restaurant, but someone couldn't stop bitching long enough to get out the car.  

He managed to manhandle Ian's giant limbs through the back of the restaurant parking him directly in the middle of the kitchen. It was a beautiful kitchen, stainless steel covering almost every inch of the huge open space. Lip's friend hadn't been kidding when he said he had a good space. The space itself came with mostly everything. The stoves and ovens and walk-in fridges were all current and in good condition. And it was theirs. All theirs. Mickey got to do what he loved, managing money and potentially busting skulls, and Ian got to do what he loved and cook all day. It seemed like the best of both worlds.  

"You ready?" Mickey murmured settling his chin against Ian's shoulder from behind.  

"Ready for what?"  

"For this."  

Ian's eyes thankfully didn't have to adjust too much to the light, because they seemed to be still in the dark. The first thing his eyes caught on to was something shiny. It was the stove tops. And then he saw window that the food would pass through and the fridge and all of the big mixers in the corner. For a second he thought Mickey had busted them into someone's restaurant.  

"Mick, what is all this?" He asked, thoroughly confused.  

"It's yours. Well technically it's ours, technically it's ours and Lip's, but... yea."  

"I—I don't get it."  

"When your brother was here last, we got drunk and had a heart to heart, one that he apparently actually took to heart. I told him I wouldn't mind running a restaurant while your cooked to your heart's content. I took a lot of business classes while I was learning construction to fulfill my electives, ya know? And he knew a guy who found this place. We each put up ten grand and . . . wala! You've got a restaurant."  

His eyes were wide as plates and his mouth partly stuck open. Because only Mickey would do this. Only Mickey could make this happen. He fisted his hand in Mickey's shirt, still completely in shock, as he continued to look around this place.  

"You bought me a restaurant for our anniversary. A fuckin' restaurant!"  

Mickey smiled sheepishly. "Don't be so full of yourself, Gallagher. I mostly bought it for me. Just wanted to try and be a business man."  

Ian turned to him with a small smile wrapping his arms around his neck gingerly and nuzzling their faces close together.  

"Mickey Gallagher-Milkovich, you are officially the shmoopiest, sweetest, love-button in the world, and you bought me a restaurant because you love me and you want me to be happy."  

Mickey's arms naturally reached for Ian's hips and he could feel his cheeks burn.  

"Well . . . yea. 'Course I do. I want both of us to be happy. Together. That sound okay to you?"  

Ian beamed. "Sounds perfect."  

They spent a few minutes furiously making out like they'd been married for twenty minutes instead of twenty years, Ian doing everything in his power to show his gratitude for his adorable, perfect husband.  

"Let's go home." Ian whined raspily. "I'll do that really nice thing you like during our bubble bath."  

Mickey bit his lip. "I don't know if I can get my legs that high in the tub."  

"I'll help you."  

" _Jesus,_ c'mon." He mumbled. 

What a happy anniversary it was.  

**** 

Ian was struggling. He couldn't identify what flavor combination would work better on the dinner menu: spicy kung pao chicken with a peanut glaze sauce or an almond glaze. It was endlessly frustrating. And it was genuinely getting to him too. Being the cook of a restaurant your husband and brother literally teamed up to give you was stressful as fuck, especially being an amateur, and especially being a first timer. Everything needed to be perfect, and what if he went with the almond and  NO ONE LIKES ALMOND?!  

"Hey? Excuse you, Freckles, you're knawing on lips I quite like. What's wrong?" Mickey murmured interrupting Ian's fretting.  

He quickly climbed onto Ian's lap at the kitchen table peering down at the piece of paper with all his messy scrawl.  

"Menu stuff again?"  

Ian nodded helplessly. "My meds are keeping me scatterbrained and I'm just...just trying not to fuck anything up."  

Mickey ran his fingers through Ian's hair, rubbing soothingly at his scalp until Ian's body went lax under his ministrations.  

"Why don't you take a break. It doesn't have to be done all at once."  

"Mick," He huffed. "this is important to me."  

"I know it is. But, I don't want you over-working yourself. Come let me take care of you."  

"Take care of me?"  

Mickey grinned. "The kid's asleep. Adam went back to Cora's. I'm attentive; I'm loving, what you tryin' to say Gallagher?"  

The smile was small but it was there and it quickly lit up Ian's face, making Mickey's heart squirm.  

"Nothin."  

"Nothin' huh."  

He stood up slowly kicking at Ian's ankles till his legs were sprawled wide. And then he was falling unceremoniously to his knees, working on Ian's belt with quick fingers and looking up at him with crystal blue eyes. Ian's breath hitched. Because he was beautiful, and so goddamn sexy that it was immediate. How could he focus on food when that mouth was on him? 

"Just fucking relax." Mickey hummed gently tugging at Ian's cock. "I got you." 

Ian leaned back with a sigh as he entered Mickey's mouth. His lips were warm and wet, slurping up and down his shaft with the perfect amount of pressure. It was impossible not to relax under his care. He quickly hardened on Mickey's tongue, biting back a moan as he tongued at the slit in his clock. Ian's hands went for Mickey's shoulders as he shuddered.  

"B—Babe." He whined desperately. 

Mickey pulled off with a plop peering up at his husband with swollen, red, tantalizing lips. Jesus.  

"It's okay to put your hands on me. You know I like it when you fuck my mouth." He said with such meager finality that Ian felt the blood rushing from his brain.  

Mickey Milkovich had evolved constantly over the years, but there was no greater evolution than his sex talk, none in the world. In fact in the list of startling evolutions it clearly goes: Mickey's sex talk, then the human race. That's just the way it is.  

"Fuck, of course you do." Ian chuckled breathlessly as he tugged Mickey back down by his hair.  

The moan that he released around him had Ian's hips rising out of his chair. Mickey kept his mouth and lips tights moving with quick bobs of his head every time Ian would tug him upwards. He loved to please Ian, loved for Ian to use him for his own pleasure. When he cums, it catches him by surprise and his whole body goes taunt as Mickey sucks every drop down.  

"Wow." Ian beams completely loose and at ease.  

"Okay?" Mickey asked.  

"Okay."  

"Good.... We gotta get this restaurant up and running, your stress is hell on my knees." He huffed getting up off the floor.  

Ian couldn't help but smile tiredly at his beautiful husband making grabby hands like the baby he was in that moment.  

"What, you want me to put your dick away too?"  

Ian shrugged. "I mean you're already down there.  Then I wanna cuddle."  

"Shit, I do for you, asshole." He muttered.  

***** 

Mickey was in charge of hiring most of the crew. Ian continued to work at the gym, because the pay was good, and they still had a daughter to support, so that left the day work to him. Waitresses, hostess, managers, dishwashers etc. It quickly became this huge machine that they couldn't run on their own. And yet they had to keep it small enough to afford. This applied to everyone … except the kitchen staff. Ian had to interview them all personally, he wanted resumes and live cooking and recipes. It was intensive and ridiculous and kind of adorable. Any doubts Mickey could even begin to have ended the second he saw the passion Ian had for something that didn't even exist yet.  

Before they could open they wanted to try and get some buzz going. Ian's background in the gym world had helped there, because he happened to have trained a journalist who did reviews on cuisines in the city. Their food wasn't going to be anything exotic, but he was able to call in the favor and that's all that mattered.  

"Jeff, thanks so much for comin' in." Ian smiled shaking his head. " I know we're not exactly one of your A-listers but we really appreciate it."  

He chuckled. "Hey you single handedly restored faith in my marriage with your workouts. It's the least I could do. Hopefully the food ain't half bad either huh?"  

"Oh it won't be, Ian here's a perfectionist." Mickey grinned.  

"Don't I know it. Well, let's get started shall we?"  

It was basically a mock trial for an actual service. They had one of the hostess seat him, and Natalie, one of the waitresses, wait on him. Meanwhile Ian was in the kitchen trying to keep his hands from shaking as the orders began to run in. And there was Mickey, standing at the head of the restaurant with his hands on his hips making sure that every piece of the machine ran smoothly. They had a little team that they were sure could do big things. They just had to be given a chance.  

As every dish went out Ian checked it twice and then Mickey triple checked before it ever touched his table. They stood at the door of the kitchen peeping through the whole like children and snooping their asses off. But, at the end of the day, Ian truly was a phenomenal cook and everything that left that kitchen was nothing less than perfection. 

"How's everything so far?" Mickey asked attempting to do the whole hospitality thing.  

"At the risk of ruining the surprise . . . I think you guys might have something really special here. The atmosphere is great, the décor, and the staff are wonderful, and the food's just plain damn good. I don't know how great of impact I'm gonna have, but locals seem to trust my column... I'm gonna push for you guys. Mom and Pop, or pop and pop, places like this do well if you manage it right. So manage it right okay?"  

Mickey grinned shaking the man's hand rough and sturdy.  

"We'll do our best, man, thanks for the opportunity."  

When Ian comes back out, he's ringing his hands with nerves because like most things in his life he never knew he could want this so bad until the opportunity presented itself. And now that it has, he's terrified of screwing it all up.  

"Ian, man, I don't know how you do it. Thanks for a great meal." Jeff grinned reaching out to shake his hand again. "I'll be in touch, alright?" 

"Yea. Yea okay!" He grinned.  

The second the door closed behind him everyone was losing their shit. They had done it. It was a small beginning, and they really didn't know how it was all gonna go, but they were well on their way and that's all that mattered.  


	31. Don't Go Breaking My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is 47. The business is booming, but time keeps moving and things keep changing and people keep getting older. Nothing stays the same. Except maybe family. Except maybe love.

Mickey is 47 when he becomes a successful business owner. Ian is a fucking genius and everything he puts on a plate is seen as such. The locals love it, but thanks to his friend's review, they get a nice flush of shmansy food people that love it just as much. Lip stops by monthly to check Mickey's math and make sure they don't go under, but there's truly no need. By all intents and purposes they were a hit, and he was finally at a time where he could enjoy it. If things didn't turn out right, if they'd failed, it would've been Mickey's fault. To succeed had felt like a necessity for so long, but finally he was able to bask in it.  

"Hey Mickey, can I go ahead and take my break?"  

Mickey peered up from the paper work he'd been squinting at for the past fifteen minutes to look at one of his employees. Emily. Sweet girl, paying her way through school. She was at their restaurant almost more than he was, so when the fuck the girl was at school he had no idea. But she worked hard and she wasn't a smartass like some of the rest of them.  

"Why don't you go ahead and take off? You've worked every day this week." He chided.  

She shrugged with tired smile. "I'm on my grind Mr. Gallagher."  

"On my grind." He chuckled under his breath. "Yea, okay. Take forty, go get yourself a meal in the kitchen or something, alright?"  

Kids these days.  

"Thanks Mickey!"  

"Yea, yea, send Ian back to the office would you?"  

"You got it."  

When Ian appeared in their office, he had the same pleased, smile he'd had every day since they'd opened. He was sweaty with his chef jacket somehow still clean, and a couple stray hairs plastered to his forehead. Fucker still looked like he could model for GQ: chefs addition. Absolutely stupid.  

"I heard bossman wanted to see me."  

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Nah, husband wants to see you."  

"Yea? You okay?" Ian asked closing the door behind him.  

"No, got a fuckin' headache the size of Mount Rushmore. I can't even get past a sentence on this page."  

"Mmm."  

Ian pulled up a chair beside him quickly running his fingers through his salt and pepper locks, fingers digging down to the scalp. Mickey's eyes closed and he whined softly at the pressure allowing Ian to do God's work. Ian couldn't help but smile at his adorable husband, but the feeling was definitely bitter-sweet. This had been an increasing fate as of late.  

"Mick, this is the fourth time this month. Maybe you should go to the doctor."  

Mickey grunted. "I'm fine, Ian."  

"No, you're in pain you stubborn man. And I knew that's exactly what you were gonna say so I went ahead and made you an appointment with Dr. Grady. You and Amy are gonna go and get check ups." Ian said, leaving no room to argue the fact.  

"You can't just make appointments for me Ian. Who's gonna look after the books if I'm off getting poked and prodded by some handsy ass dude with cold fingers." He muttered.  

Ian scoffed. "Not you that's for damn sure, you can't even read anything because your damn head hurts all the time! Besides Dr. Grady is a woman and you know it. You're going, Mickey. And that's final."  

Mickey gave his husband a half-hearted glare, but couldn't help but feel affected by the constant pressure on his scalp. 

"Don't yell at me man; I'm in pain."  

"Alright, alright. Just... go home. Amy'll be getting home soon. Just lie down in the dark and I'll take care of things here. I'm gonna leave Charlie in charge of the dinner rush and I'll come home and make you some soup." Ian murmured.  

Mickey smiled. "I've got a headache man, not the plague."  

Ian's fingers immediately stilled.  

"You saying you want me to stop?"  

Mickey merely whined again until Ian continued with the rubbing with a chuckle.  

"You're such a child. Can you drive home or you want me to take you?"  

He sniffed. "I'm a man, ain't I? I can drive home."  

"Yea, sure. Call me when you get home and tell me you're okay shithead."  

And then he was giving him quick, staccato kisses that truly trumped the head rub tenfold. Oh was it nice to have someone who cared.  

Mickey was forced home and into bed all without Ian have to physically do a thing.He'd truly gone soft in his old age. But, the second his head hit the pillow on their bed, he couldn't find much to complain about. Maybe Ian was right after all. Everyone had their moments. 

*                 *                * 

 

"Mr. Gallagher what seems to be the problem today?" Dr. Grady asked as she performed the routine tasks for a check up.  

He sat up straight so she could listen to his heart and explained between big breaths of air.  

"I've been having pretty bad migraines. Makes it hard to see, think, read, do anything really. Usually when I lie in the dark for a couple of hours it goes away though. Ian made me come."  

She smiled. "I heard. But hey worried husbands are never a bad thing right?"  

Mickey snorted. "You met mine?"  

"Fair. Well let's take a little look, shall we?"  

She started by having him point out where the migraines seem to be originating from. Then she ran her fingers through his scalp, pressing down along his skull checking for any lumps or bumps.  

"Hmm... When do these migraines usually start?" She asked heading to her row of medical instruments, or torture devices depending on who you asked.  

"Uhhh I guess whenever I'm at work and I gotta go over some documents? Sometimes when I'm at the computer or when I'm printing things out and going over the books for our business." He explained.  

She picked up one of those little flashlights and gave each of his eyes a quick check.  

"Why Mr. Gallagher I do indeed believe I know what your problem is."  

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm all ears, Doc."  

"You need glasses."  

*** 

 

"Where's Mickey?" Ian asked one of the managers as he finished his kitchen shift for the night  

"In his office, I believe."  

"Alright. Make sure dinner goes okay. Tanya's taking any leftovers to the shelter over on Shadeland, so make sure everyone get's something to eat if they need it. Call us if anything goes crazy!"  

"Bye Ian!" The kitchen staff chorused before continuing with the busy dinner service for the night.  

He headed to the office ready to get off of his feet and into bed with his husband.  

"Hey you ready to head home?" Ian asked opening the door.  

Mickey spun around in his chair shuffling papers together and mumbling under his breath.  

"Yea, yea just uh, just give me a minute."  

Ian sighed quickly plopping down in a chair himself.  

"You take all the time you need. Amy's at a friends and I don't have to cook for another human being tonight. I'll just sit here."  

He rested for a few minutes with his eyes closed as Mickey swarmed around their office like a mad man shoving things into bag Ian had bought him for his birthday. It was nice and leather and sleek and every time Mickey walked into the restaurant in it, Ian had major rich boss man fantasies. Needless to say it was the gift that kept on giving...  

"Alright, let's get home." Mickey muttered quickly flipping the lights off and plunging them into darkness.  

"Wait you never told me how the doctor appointment went? Did she fix you?"  

"Uh... yea. She just says I'm stressed out and not taking enough time to decompress. So, I'm gonna scale back at the restaurant, hang out with Amy more. She hangs out with Mandy more every day and I swear the first time that kid asks for highlights we are moving."  

Ian chuckled looping his arm through Mickey's as they made their way to the car.  

"It's good for her to have that influence Mick. She's turning eleven soon. You wanna talk to her about body changes and periods and shit? I mean what if we give her the wrong information? We can read those books all day long, but some things can only be shared through experience."  

"Yea I know... Just want her to get all the good bits ya know? Not the bad ones. From all of us." He shrugged pulling Ian closer to his side.  

"She will. Promise." The younger man beamed up at him. 

Mickey grinned. "Enough with your face."  

They got into their car, because they drove to work together whenever they could. Ian wanted them to be environmentally conscious. Mickey just kinda liked having Ian in the car next to him in the morning and at night after a long day. The older he got the less he liked being away from his ginger.  

They ordered take out that night and cuddled in bed with a movie. Mickey was trying to act liked his head and eyes weren't hurting and Ian wasn't calling him out on it, instead intent on rubbing his fingers through his scalp in an attempt to alleviate the pressure. Of course Mickey on snuggled closer to the feeling, practically preening at the touch. Mickey wasn't going to help him he'd gotten classes. It just wasn't going to happen. And thus began to rich ole tale of a husband thinking it was physically possible to lie to his husband.  

*** 

"Dad! Will you look over my homework?" Amy practically demanded shoving her way into Mickey's lap despite her basically being bigger than he was.  

He snorted. "What makes you think I can look over it?"  

"Because you’re the smartest dad in the whole wide world and you were the first Milkovich to ever graduate high school let alone get a degree and everything about you is perfect." She finished with a flourish.  

"Ian tell you to say that?"  

She nodded.  

"He says you liked to have your ego pet."  

"Well he's not wrong. Let's see what you got huh?"  

He took the paper in his hands and peered down at the sheet only to squint down at it in confusion. The paper looked blurry, and peering at it caused that same dull throb to start in the center of his forehead, before working down the back of his skull. He couldn't read a goddamn thing on the page. But he couldn't tell Amy that. Amy had a big ass mouth just like her father, and if Amy knew, Ian would know by the end of the day.  

"Listen kid I still got a headache. Just read me out the problems and I'll tell you if they sound right or not okay?"  

She looked at him weird for it, but didn't mention anything and they were able to get through the homework mostly without problem. Mission accomplished.  

In bed, that night, after a long round of slow, methodical love making, Mickey was taxed with the task of finding them something to watch while their heartbeats slowed. But, because he couldn't wear his glasses, he couldn't see, and thus scrolling through the lists of channels that seemed to get smaller every day was nearly impossible. Finally he just clicked on something with a grunt.  

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure this is what you wanna watch?" 

"'Course I am. I put it on didn't I?"  

And that is how they spent the night coming down from a sex-induced high while watching  really old reruns of Hannah Montana.  

*** 

Mickey was so fucking stupid.  Ian loved his husband to death, but he was a dumbass and a half sometimes. At first he'd thought it would just take time for Mickey to adjust, but it became very noticeable, very quickly that this was not the case. First there was the whole Hannah Montana thing. And then the week after that he caught Mickey trying to help a customer with a menu and he had to literally shove his face into the book. And then everytime Ian would come into their office he'd scurry away and act like he hadn't been reading something. Lucky for Mickey, work had become their safe place and they never brought and drama from their daily lives into it. Unlucky for him the bastard had to go home at some point.  

"Hey can we go out to dinner tonight? Like a sit down restaurant where I don't have to cook for someone?" Ian asked.  

Mickey shrugged. "Sure, sounds good to me."  

"Does it?"  

Mickey was standing at the foot of their bed drying off after a shower when Ian asked.  

He turned to him and smiled. "Yea, why not?"  

Ian smiled back at him, because he was just so fucking beautiful, before reaching under his towel and yanking sharply at his pubes.  

"OW! OW you soulless ginger twat! What the fuck Ian!"  

"You lying dumbass!"  

"OWWWWWWW IAN!" 

Mickey grabbed desperately at his abused genitalia moving away from his husband before he could do it again.  

"The doctor said you just needed a break huh? Did she forget to mention the fact that you can't fucking see?! Goddammit Mickey!" 

"Abuse! This is abuse! I don't tell you about my eyesight so you grab my fucking pubes? What happened to healthy communication you fucking asswipe!"  

Ian rolled his eyes. "Healthy communication went out the window when you lied to me. We're going to get you glasses tomorrow fuckwad. Get over it."  

"I already have glasses!"  

"Already have glasses?!" 

And then he was hitting him again until his husband was warn down, irritated and incapable of fighting him.  

"Go put the glasses on dumbass." Ian muttered almost affectionately.  

Mickey huffed. "Can I put some fucking clothes on first or are you gonna low blow me again?"  

"That's just a chance you're going to have to take."  

Asshole. 

The stupid thing about it was the second he put them on, his whole face lit up. Ian could tell that it made him feel better, that the tension and pain melted with ease. Not to mention the jackass had the nerve to look hot as all hell in them. It was a devastation. How can you be mad at someone when they look like that.  

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" He frowned.  

"Shut up with your face, Mick. You look good and you know it."  

Mickey squinted with confusion before it settled it that Ian Gallagher had a fantasy or two of his own. And suddenly a smirk appeared on his face.  

"This kinda thing get you goin' Gallagher?"  

Ian gave him a massive eye roll and crossed his arms.  

"I have a complex with men of authority, that's all." 

"Hmm." 

Mickey kept the glasses on before saddling up next to his husband with gentle eyes.  

"Maybe I could help you out with that."  

Ian peered up at his husband with interest as Mickey reached for his jeans palming his roughly before unsnapping the button. He gave a sigh and a grunt as Mickey fondled him, forgetting all about how stupid his husband was. Mickey took advantage of the beautiful, content look on Ian's face by letting go of his dick and pulling roughly on his pubes.  

"Mother of holy shitlicker!"  

 Maybe he wasn't so stupid after all. 

*** 

Mickey gets the call during the lunch rush. One of the waitresses was out sick and he was helping his staff take orders, when one of his hostesses told him about the phone call. It was Martha.  

"Hello?" 

"Mickey? It's George again . . . He's in the hospital. Can you make it?"  

"I'm on my way."  

He insisted that Ian stay and work on the basis that two of them out of work wouldn't help anyone, and he could always just call him and tell him what was going on. They both knew George would cuss them out for both leaving anyway.  

He picked Amy up from school and they went to sit in the hospital together. This wasn't new. George had been sick a couple of times throughout the years. He was a cancer survivor. But, what the doctor would come and tell them was that the cancer was back, and this time more aggressive than ever. So aggressive that they weren't even going to attempt treatment. They wanted to make him comfortable for the inievitable. For Martha and George this was of course sad, but for Mickey it was truly devastating. He couldn't imagine his life without George in it.  

"Hey I'm on my way now, dinner just finished. What did they say?" Ian asked?  

Mickey took a huge breath wiping his hand tiredly over his face.  

"I—It's bad. It's so bad, Ian." He explained wetly. "He lit up like a fucking glowstick."  

Ian sighed. "I'm so sorry, Mick. How's Martha doing?"  

He laughed humorlessly. "She's doing better than me. I—I had to leave. I couldn't look at him like that, looking all fragile and frail. He's all that I . . . he's the closest thing I got to a dad, Ian."  

His voice had gotten progessively wetter, and his breathing started to escalate. He squeezed his fingers around his phone, wishing Ian was there to hold his hand. Ian always made things better.  

"I know, I know." He hummed softly. "He's not gone yet; he's a fighter, all you Milkovichs are fighter."  

They both knew that this time was different, that there just might not be anything to fight. But, Mickey attempted to take comfort in his words anyway.  

"Need you here, man." He sniffled. "Can't go through this alone."  

"I'll be there soon. I'd never let you go through anything alone, you know that."  

"Will you stay on the phone with me till you get here?"  

"'Course I will. Wanna listen to me sing Maroon 5? Adam levine ain't got shit on me, baby."  

And that's how Mickey ended up sitting in the middle of a hospital listening to his husband scream sing "She Will Be Loved" and laughing until the tears he was wiping away were a mixture of happiness and sadness. Boy was he lucky.  

 

*** 

 

Family night was a big thing in the Gallagher home. Ian cooked sometimes two or three days in advance. There were games, music, movies, etc. Everyone was expected to attend less they want to deal with the wrath of a bitchty husband. Mickey would send out regular group chat reminders to ensure that he wouldn't have to console Ian in the face of their families fuckery.  Ian loved his family, and he wanted them close as often as possible. The good news was Ian's family really loved him, soa majority of the time they showed up.  

"Dad!" Adam grinned as Ian threw his arms around his kid.  

Adam had been a little difficult to see as often lately, with school and his girlfriend, but things had evened out and he was doing his best to be around a lot more.  

"Hey kiddo. Where's Cora?"  

Adam shrugged. "She's at one of her meetings for gender equality on campus. Tonight their all girl meeting, so I was not invited."  

"Ah, rough."  

Adam moved on to his other father only to see that something about him had changed.  

"Oh pops, you're getting old!" He snorted tapping at his glasses. 

Mickey sent a glare towards his son as he hugged him.  

"Adam stop making fun of your father." Ian responded in monotone already heading back towards the kitchen.  

Adam rolled his eyes as Mickey stuck his tongue out at him.  

Family nights were Ian's favorite because it meant having all his family together. A part of him missed the close knit kinship of the Gallagher home growing up, and he loved that Mickey would indulge him every now again. After all he knew that at the end of the day Mickey would have always been happy with just him, and that everything else was just extra.  

"Would you take the cookies out to the kids please?" He asked working hard at the stove.  

Mickey ignored his plea instead turning Ian around and quickly pressing their lips together.  

Ian smiled, arms worming their way around Mickey's waist.  

"What was that for?"  

"'Cause I wanted to. Cause I love you a little bit." Mickey shrugged.  

"Just a little bit?"  

"Mhm."  

Ian kissed him again, this time running his tongue along the seam of his lips.  

"Still just a little bit?"  

Mickey's eyebrows and lips raised. "I'm listening."  

Ian chuckled moving them deeper against the counter as they continued to explore each other's mouths with an obscene amount of tongue.  

Marriage is fun, kids. 

*** 

 

George passes on a Saturday. He was a three time cancer survivor. He'd driven Martha and he around until the last hospital visit. He was a devoted husband, an amazing grand, and great-grand father, and yet little sadness came with his departure. There was so much light in his soul and in his heart that one could only cherish what he brought to their life. It seemed selfish to ask for anything more. That was how Martha saw it, and how she insisted everyone else saw it.  

"He did say I'd outlive him by at least a decade. Apparently I'm diabolical." She giggled wiping away tears.  

Mandy was there right next to her with her arms wrapped tight around her. They smiled through tears and recounted their favorite memories of George. And Ian cooked them a wonderful meal and just listened, because it was sad, but it needed to be said. Even with all the happiness sometimes sadness just can't be helped.  

Mickey was sad. Sadder than he'd ever been by a death in his whole life. Since the time he'd met George, they'd grown closer than he'd ever been with man older than him. That parental figure that he'd never got, George had done his best to fulfill, and he did tenfold. When Mickey and Ian were having issues or if he didn't know how to address something at work, George would drag him to the bar and just talk to him over a beer. He'd never had that before. It was weird and it was wonderful and the thought of that being taken away from him hurt terribly.  

In honor of George, Mickey went out and bought his favorite brand of whiskey, and he drank enough for the two of them. And then he stumbled home on wobbly legs with blurry eyes trying very hard not to cry. Ian found him late that night on the floor, glasses crooked and damp with tears when he couldn't make it any further. Quite frankly they were getting older and moving him around wasn't nearly as easy as it used to be. So Ian grabbed their comforter off the bed and a pillow or two and curled up right behind him hugging Mickey close as he cried. It's a rough time for everyone, but they get through it together.  

*** 

 

"Baby relax. You're too tense." Ian sighed.  

It'd been a rough week. A rough month. A rough year. The restaurant was going amazing, but that meant so much more work for them, on top of raising Amy. And Mickey was just barely getting over George's death. He was tired. And Mickey being Mickey meant he would never admit to it.  

"I'm fine, Ian. I just need to get more work done." Mickey argued.  

Ian kissed at his neck. "You just proved my point. You only ever argue with me anymore when you know I'm right and you don't wanna admit it."  

"I just need to keep moving okay?"  

Mickey liked to live by the motto of when things are rougher just keep moving. The problem was that oftent imes Mickey over did it in an attempt to not have to remember. His plate was filled to the brim. He was overworked, he was tired, and he still wasn't exactly happy.  

"You don't. You need to stop moving—no listen to me," Ian argued as Mickey tried to move away from him. "Mickey look at me."  

When he did, it was like the mask he'd had on for so long suddenly cracked. Everything that Ian had knew, simply because he knew Mickey found it's way to the surface. The planes of his face drooped, his mouth was in a firm line, and the creases in his forehead were taut with stress. It was clear that everything had gotten to him, and that he was fed up.  

"I can't stop Ian." He told him, voice defeated and just _sad_. "If I stop I don't think I'll be able to get up again."  

Ian reached for him, taking his hands in his and pulling him close.  

"You will. I'll help you. You're too strong to not get up."  

"You don't know that. You can't!"  

"I do!" He argued. "I know you better than anyone, Mickey. Just like you know me. And I know that you don't like to deal with things that are hard. I know that you hate to show weakness, that you think being hurt somehow means that you've failed and you haven't! It's not your fault. Do you get that? It is not your fault."  

Mickey shook his head taking deep stuttering breaths. Ian watched as he grabbed at he reached his arms out and became unbalanced like he was dizzy. At first he thought it was a panic attack. He reached for Mickey, wrapping his fingers around the back of his neck to ground him. But Mickey immediately flailed away from him.  

He shook his head fast and hard still clenching at his chest.  

"No—different! Can't feel my—"  

He was tagging sharp breaths over and over again, but nothing was working, and he soon collapsed on the ground unable to speak. Luckily when Ian was a trainer, he'd undergone training for situations like that one and quickly fell into that mindset again.  

He fell to the ground beside his husband, propping his head up on his knees and screamed for their other manager to call nine one one.  

"It's okay Mick. I'm here. Try to breathe with me." He stated quickly.  

His skin was flushed, he was trembling, and he kept grasping at his heart. The more Ian sat there trying to calm him down, the most he started to realize that this was very much something different. But, he kept it together because Mickey needed him. And then, a journey was being rolled into their tiny office and his Mickey was being rushed to a hospital, and suddenly Ian couldn't keep it together anymore. George has just passed that year, and something about seeing Mickey on that gurney just broke him.  

There were employees and friends trying to speak to him, but he couldn't focus; he had to stay with Mickey.  

"I wanna go with him!" He demanded already climbing up into the ambulance.  

It was the longest ride in his life, and the entire time he felt so absolutely useless. He was supposed to take care of Mickey. They were supposed to do that for each other. Always. And for the first time there was nothing he could do, but hope and pray that Mickey would be okay.  He'd never felt so useless. 

*** 

"Daddy?"  

Ian lurched out of his chair, quickly wiping at the tears that had messed up his face. He smiled picking up his little girl and squeezing her tight.  

"Hey sweetie." He murmured, voice high pitched and fake.  

He'd had Mandy pick her up from school, while he was at the hospital with Mickey. Well, technically with Mickey. He had not been allowed to see him since they arrived at the hospital, and no one was trying to tell him a goddamn thing. And so his mind had just been going haywire for the past two hours. Not such a good idea for a mentally ill person.  

"What's wrong with Daddy Mickey?" She sniffled. 

He caught side of Mandy over her head and it was clear that everyone was terrified.  

"Daddy Mickey is just tired. He's been so down lately that he had to come here and rest for a little while."  

They all sat down together, Ian pulling Amy onto his lap and holding her close. She was twelve years old, but a Daddy's girl through and through. Her fathers were her world and having Mickey in the hospital was hard on her. Explaining George's death had been way too easy, apparently Amy's life had been full of death before she came to stay with the Gallagher-Milkovichs. So, she understood. And understanding made it all so much scarier, because she knew her father was hurt, and she knew what that meant. It was scary for everyone.  

"Someone should make the rounds, call Adam, Fiona, the kids." Ian sighed.  

Mandy nodded. "I'll do it."  

"You sure?"  

"Yea, give me something to keep busy."  

She gave Ian's hand a squeeze and Amy's head a kiss on her way past.  

Meanwhile Ian and Amy set in to wait.  

By the time anyone came out to talk to Ian, Mandy and Amy were fast asleep. He'd tried to get them to go home, but they both refused. The looks on their faces had reminded him so much of Mickey he didn’t' know whether to laugh or cry.  

"Mr. Gallagher?"  

He shot out of his seat and rushed over to the doctor.  

"Yes, yes that's me is Mickey okay?"  

The doctor nodded.  

"Your husband had what we like to call a TIA. It's a transient ischemic attack, or a ministroke."  

"A stroke?! He had a stroke?! He's not even fifty!"  

She nodded softly. "Strokes don't always come with age, Mr. Gallagher. You told the paramedics that he suffers from panic attacks and anxiety disorder, correct? Well, we see an increase of strokes with patients with that type of disorder. Stress can be very taxing on the body, especially if you're not dealing with that stress. Now a TIA is a very small version of a stroke, as in the effects don't last very long, and aren't nearly as severe. We actually had to do a MRI to even tell that he had one. The fact that Mr. Gallagher had trouble recounting the events that transpired to us was our only inclination."  

"Trouble recounting—he's awake?"  

"Well yes but--" 

"I need to see him."  

"Mr. Gallagher is very tired and I think—" 

"I need to see my husband. Now." He insisted. 

Reluctantly she led him to Mickey's room, giving them a small moment of privacy. Ian, who had done a pretty good job of keeping it together, lost it at the sight of his husband connected to machines and needles and shit. He looked pale—paler than Mickey ever looked—and almost gaunt. He looked so tired, and it reminded Ian of when he'd finally told him about his anorexia, how truly horrified he had been. That was his husband, his baby, and he looked so not okay.  

"Jesus Christ Mickey." His voice cracked.  

Mickey sent him a faint smile. "What? Don't I look sexy in white?" 

"Don't you joke about this. H—How can you joke about this? Look at you."  

"I'm fine Ian."  

"You are not fine!" Ian exploded shocking Mickey into silence. "You're lied up in the hospital because you gave yourself a fucking stroke; you are so far from fine!" 

Ian wiped his hands over his face to dispel some of the tears threatening to fall and shook his head.  

"I was fucking terrified Mick. What am I—what was I supposed to do if I lost you? What would our little girl have done if she had lost you? We need you. We—We love you so much. I need you."  

His face began to crumple and if there was one thing Mickey could not handle it was the tears of Ian Gallagher. Nothing was that diabolical, not even a stroke. Okay maybe a little too soon to kid, but still. 

"Hey, c'mere Ian. Please, alright? Come here." He mumbled reaching his hand out. 

Ian took it slowly lowering himself into the chair beside Mickey's bed. And then he hid his face in his husband's gown because he was tired and scared and being an adult was really hard right then.  

"I'm sorry I scared you and Amy." Mickey whispered running his fingers soothingly through the red strands.  

Ian sniffled. "And Mandy. Don't forget Mandy."  

"And Mandy." He agreed. "I didn't mean to have a stroke Ian. And from what I hear it wasn't a real stroke anyway, just a little fake one."  

Ian sat up then, holding possessively onto Mickey's hand with both of his and holding his fingers with a vengeance.  

"It was a fake one today, but what about tomorrow, Mick? You keep bottling up all these emotions, and taking on all this stress and your body is telling you enough, but you're not listening. You can't live your life this way or I'm gonna lose you and I can't handle that. It's selfish as fuck, but I don't care. I've come this far; I can't live my life without you."  

Mickey nodded softly using his other hand to wipe away some of the left over tears from his husband's face. Oddly enough he couldn't imagine living without him either.  

"You're right okay? I'm sorry. But I won't leave you. Ever."  

"Promise?" Ian asked eyes wide and hopeful like he was still just a child desperately clinging to affection.  

"Fuckin' promise."  

Mickey pulled his closer sighing a sigh of relief as Ian snuggled deeper into his arms. His skin smelled like soap and cayenne and Ian. He was warm and solid beneath Mickey's hands and he wasn't about to let him go anywhere. They still had so much more life to live together. So, he stayed awake much longer than he should have, fighting all of the meds he was on just to cherish the man that have given him such an amazing life, and who would die giving him so much more.  

 


	32. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey is 49 and at a specific stage in his life. There a couple of minor bumps with the adjustment to his health, but things are all right. As he and Ian live happily in their little world others are experiencing the same, and Mickey must come to the realization that that's okay. Life doesn't happen the same for everyone, and when one person enters one milestone, another may be experiencing something completely different. Luckily when it comes to family support doesn't stop when things get tricky. For the most part any way....

Mickey is 49 when Ian treats him like glass. The restaurant has to take a back seat, that's what the doctors tell him before he's released back into the world. He needed time to deal with George's death, needed time for his body to heal, and apparently for his family to heal as well. But, some were healing faster than others. And it seemed like, in Ian's case he might never heal.

They go on vacation for spring break. Adam is off school and he brings Cora along with him. They fly out to Hawaii. Martha had been too tired to take the flight, and Ian had no idea what either of them would do when she passed. It's the first family vacation that requires a plane, and they afford it easily, which makes them feel good. Mickey thought they would go around playing with the kids, maybe do some snorkeling or some shit. Come to find out Ian had very strict plans for their time there.

"Adam and Cora are gonna take Amy to visit one of the volcanoes." Ian explained as they all ate this beautiful breakfast the hotel had provided.

Mickey quirked an eyebrow. "What about us?"

"We're gonna stay back and relax."

And at first Mickey got excited. After the "stroke" Ian was afraid one full stroke of his dick was gonna send Mickey straight into cardiac arrest. He'd been hoping that this vacation would give them some time to . . . . well, fuck. It seemed as though Ian and he were finally on the same page again.

"Alright." He smirked at his husband.

Anyone else at the table could have told the poor bastard that a dicking was the last thing he would be receiving. Ian had explained to all of the children that Mickey was not to push himself too hard. The point of the vacation was for Mickey to relax and nothing more. It sucked, but no one dare argue with Ian.

So, when breakfast was over everyone else donned on their backpacks and sunglasses, while Mickey and Ian stayed behind. Mickey barely waited till the door was closed before sneaking up behind his husband and touching him. His lips trailed up Ian's neck and his fingers immediately strayed to the front of his pants.

"Miss you." Mickey mumbled against his throat. "Feel like you haven't been in me forever. Need you in me."

Ian froze under his touch and slipped out of his hands like fucking butter.

"Don't you wanna go down to the beach? Get some sun, maybe work on our tans?" He chuckled nervously.

Mickey scrunched his face up. "Fuck no I don't wanna work on my tan. I don't tan, Ian I burn; you know that. I want you to fuck me until I'm unconscious."

This of course only served to give Ian war flashbacks on his husband collapsing in the middle of their restaurant. Not exactly sexy.

"C'mon Mick, we're in Hawaii. We should take advantage."

He huffed. "Later?"

"Later." Ian quickly agreed steering his husband towards the beach instead of the sheets.

The problem was that a cycle formed. Every time Mickey would try and get something going, Ian would immediately have a million different things for them to do. Snorkeling. A couple's massage. A cooking class. Anything and everything that kept them together, and yet so apart. It drove Mickey insane.

They had been there for a whole week and their vacation was coming to an end, when Mickey got hip to his husband's bullshit. Ian was in the shower and Amy was getting ready for some night adventure that Mickey of course was not invited to, and he was pissed about it.

Adam snorted. "What's got your boxers in a bunch?"

"The fact that your dad won't take them off of me." Mickey muttered partly to irritate his son, and partly because it was fucking true

Adam gagged as usual.

"He's just trying to be careful."

"Careful? Careful of what?" He asked and his eyebrows rose when Adam's face got suspicious. "Tell me what you know."

And Adam, because he was like his father—Ian—couldn't keep a secret for shit so he spilled like a little kid handling a cup of juice.

He watched as his father's eyes got dark with every detail of Ian's chastity belt scheme—not knowing much about the sex part of course because they like to fuck with their children not scar them for life, meanwhile Mickey was boiling. No wonder he hadn't done shit but gaze at the fucking sand and watch everyone else get drunk around him. His husband was afraid any ounce of adrenaline was gonna cause him to keel over.

"Take Amy and Cora for ice-cream." Mickey said quickly getting off of the couch.

"Why?"

"Don't come back for a couple hours!" He called, ignoring his son completely.

Adam sighed the sigh of a child who was sadly aware that his parents were sexual beings before quickly leaving the room.

In the master bedroom Ian was making his way out of the shower. One towel was wrapped around his waist, hanging low on his hips, while he ran another one through his hair to collect the excess water. Damn him. Damn him all to hell for still looking like a magazine ad for sexy towels as they approached their fifties. Asshole.

And yet still his face softened and turned dopey and smiley as soon as he caught sight of Mickey. Because . . . love or whatever.

"Hey, you wanna watch a movie or something? I thought we could order room service. They have some incredible stuff I wanna try before—woah, Mickey!"

Mickey did not have time for his husband to try to distract with stupid shit, so he dropped to his knees taking Ian's towel with him. No more talking.

"M—Mick we can't. Th—Think of the kids!"

Mickey pulled off Ian's dick with a wet plop.

"Shut the fuck up, Gallagher."

Ian licked his lips groaning softly as Mickey swallowed around him. He was on a good dose of meds that kept his dick working like you wouldn’t believe and his body immediately betrayed him. Sweet Jesus.

"Your heart . . . I don't want you to hurt yourself."

He rolled his eyes and pulled off once again, glaring angrily at his husband.

"Your cock is not gonna kill me you pretentious asshole! Your cock didn't end me in the hospital, stress did, and guess what my favorite way to relieve stress is? Not fucking sitting on the beach baking all day."

Ian frowned. "I just wanted to keep you around. I—I need you, Mick, you know that."

"You need me?"

He nodded softly.

Mickey lifted himself off the ground before pulling softly at Ian's hand and guiding him towards the bed.

"Come show me how much you need me."

***

When Mickey makes his way back to work, it's slow at first. No one wants to stress him out, so all of the waiters and waitresses stay out of his way as much as possible. Then one of the weaker ones lets it slip that this was under Ian's instructions, so Mickey called a meeting while Ian was on a delivery run and scared the living daylights out of all of him. The satisfaction of seeing the fear in those kid's eyes was enough to make Mickey happy for the rest of the week. Ahhhh.

Eventually Ian slowly starts to see that Mickey isn’t going to die anytime soon and as he relents so does everyone else. The restaurant continues to work like a machine and eventually they get some amazing news. Mickey is doing the numbers when he finds out that they’re going to make a profit of double what they’d make last year, for the second year in a row. People can only pray for that kind of success and they definitely take note of it.

They throw a party for the employees, Ian cooks some stuff of the menu even though Mickey thought he deserved a break as well. They sit back and watch everyone have a good time, watch everything that they’ve built be successful and amazing.

“I can’t believe we did this.” Ian sighed leaning heavily on Mickey’s shoulder.

“Well believe it, Freckles. We really pulled it off.”

Ian smiled lovingly at him and intertwined their fingers so he could press a kiss to the back of Mickey’s hand.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Mick.”

“That’s easy. You’d be a wreck.” Mickey smirked at his favorite redhead.

“Very funny asshole, the last time I pay you a compliment.”

They both laughed at each other still feeling as warm and fuzzy as ever, just older.

All around them the young ones are eating food and talking shit, having a blast. In the corner Ian and Mickey sit just talking to each other. Mostly because, despite working together every day, they don’t actually see all that much of each other with Ian in the back and Mickey working the front. But also because they’ve managed to reach a point where it’s just incredibly nice to be side by side. You manage to fine someone you feel content with for the rest of your life, and you’d be surprise how good it can feel to bask in that contentedness.

“I wanna watch a movie tonight. I’m thinking romantic comedy, ‘The Proposal’ type shit.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Your obsession with Ryan Reynolds continues to both intrigue and irritate me. If we’re doing rom-com, I want barbeque wings and fries for dinner.”

“Oh yea because we watched ‘Green Lantern’ for the fucking plot line, right Mick?” Ian sniffed. “Fine I think that can be arranged.”

“I want a bubble bath too since you’re making jokes, Chuckles.”

“With a bath bomb from Lush?”

“Duh. But not that fucking golden egg one again. I was finding glitter up my ass for weeks.”

“I thought it was quite delightful. Nothing spices up our love making then finding glitter between your ass cheeks.”

Mickey punched Ian hard enough in the shoulder for him to wince slightly as he laughed.

“Asshole.” He muttered.

“Alright, alright. You get your man-child food and bubble bath hold the glitter. We’ll even bust out the whiskey and mud exfoliates, make it a date night.”

“Fine.” Mickey said all grumbles and eyebrows even still.

Ian leaned in softly to press his head against Mickey’s.

“Hey, Mick?”

“What?”

“I love you.”

Mickey turned and rolled his eyes as a small smile appeared on his face.

“Yea, yea, I love you too.”

Nothing says, “I love you” more than a bottle of jack, a bath bomb, and some high-quality mud.

They pick up wings from Mickey’s favorite bar and eat them in the tub passing Jack back and forth between them. Ian spends most of the time getting grabby and massaging Mickey’s thighs, also known as his favorite pastime. It’s okay though, Mickey likes to be touched more than he’s usually willing to admit.

“How you feelin’?” Ian asked refusing to meet Mickey’s eye as he continued touching his legs.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I’m still kickin’.”

“Mkay…. Just making sure.”

“You ever gonna stop being scared of me?”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh. “No! I’ve been scared of you my whole entire life; I don’t see that stopping ever.”

“Really? I always thought you were the only person I’d ever met who wasn’t afraid of me . . . Who saw me for what I never thought I could be.”

Ian looked up to the slight pout of Mickey’s lips quickly being hid behind the bottle of whiskey.

“I wasn’t afraid of your fists or your dirt, stupid. I knew you could never hurt me, at least not physically.” He insisted. “I just remember loving my family, and thinking that I could never care about anyone the way I cared about them. But then I met you, and you changed all of that. I’ve never loved anything the way I love you, and just knowing that someone like you existed in the world is both terrifying and wonderful all that the same time.”

Mickey reached into the water to intertwine his fingers with Ian as if hiding amidst the water, made pink and opaque from their bath bomb, would somehow make it less real.

“I guess I can deal with that?”

“Yea? Cause I just really love you, and I wanna give you everything. And as scary as that is sometimes, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Ian lifted one of his hands out of the water and ran it through Mickey’s hair that wasn’t as black as it used to be, but was still just as beautiful. His fingers dribbled down to his husband’s chin rough with stubble. How could someone still be so perfect after so many years?

“I love you too, ya know.” Mickey said almost angrily, as if it were somehow a contest.

Ian just grinned. “Lucky me.”

Eventually Mickey gets tired of talking and pulls Ian into for a kiss instead. As great as their communication orally had gotten they were still always the best with their bodies. Maybe that's the way things would always be, but maybe that was okay.

***

Ian is at home on kid duty while Amy has a sleepover when the frantic knock comes. He steps over barbies, glitter, and pointy other things to get to the door. It’s Mandy.

“My stupid brother here?” She mumbled.

She looked frail and nervous, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She hadn’t look so broken in years.

“No he’s at a meeting why—what’s wrong Mandy? Come in.”

Over the years Mandy had calmed significantly. She’d been in a relationship for the past five years with the same guy. She hadn’t made a significant change to her hair color in forever. She paid rent and worked as a social worker of all things. Her life had been steady and she had been happy. Whatever was in front of Ian in that moment was not happy.

He left the girls to their movie and fun and pulled Mandy upstairs to his and Mickey’s bedroom where she promptly fell apart. They lie on the bed together, Ian holding her while she cried and shook. Ian being the best friend that he’d always been didn’t say a word, only tightening his arms around her without ever being asked and offering his t-shirt to soak up tears and snot. They lie so intertwined that Mandy didn’t have to look him in the ye when she shared the news.

“I think—I think that Ronnie might be cheating on me.” She whispered.

Ian pulled back slowly tilting her chin up where it had drooped.

“Okay. What makes you thinks that?”

“I found something.”  

He nodded. “What did you find?”

Mandy quickly shook her head before bursting into tears all over again.

Eventually he was able to detangle himself from her, grabbing a box of tissues before Mandy explained the situation a little clear. They had been having a rough patch as of late. Ronnie, Mandy’s boyfriend, had been laid off and wasn’t having too much luck finding another job. Mandy was keeping them afloat, but only by working harder than ever. She’d been doing laundry when she discovered a condom wrapper in his jean pocket. It was latex and Mandy was allergic.

“What do you wanna do?” Ian asked running his thumb in soothing circles along her back.

Mandy sniffled. “I just wanna stay here for a while . . . If that’s okay.”

“Of course. You can stay in Adam’s old room. I’ll make some cookies and tea alright?”

“And you won’t tell Mickey?”

The thought that Mickey would somehow even out in temperament as he got older was ludicrous. Though he controlled himself better, Mickey was already ready to go, and family was sure fire way to make him lose his mind. Though his life of crime was far behind him, Mickey would always be a Milkovich, add that on top of being a Gallagher and there wasn’t much of anything that he wouldn’t do for his family. It was best not to test the theory.

“’Course not. I think I have an old t-shirt and some of Mick’s sweats lying around somewhere. Why don’t you take a shower huh? Relax?”

She nodded softly eyes not meeting Ian’s because both her and her brother still struggled immensely with appearing weak in front of others. Mandy bit her lip before abruptly pulling Ian into a tight, furious hug as she stood on her tip toes with her face shoved into his neck.

“Thanks Ian.”

And then she was gone and Ian was left to smile to himself. Family.

Later that night after things had settled down, Mickey arrived home to Ian lying in bed reading a book. After he’d kissed the kid, changed out of the suit and tie, and washed and moisturized his face—just because he was getting older didn’t mean he couldn’t fight it a little bit—he climbed into bed and collapsed on his husband like the grumpy cat he was. Ian peered over the top of his book and grinned quietly to himself. It was clear he was done reading for the night.

“How was the meeting?” He asked quickly slipping his fingers into Mickey’s hair to massage his scalp.

Mickey purred quietly.

“Just another one of those business investor yahoos trying to schmooze me over with top shelf liquor and fancy beef shit.”

“Did it work?”

He snickered. “Hell no. The shit you make is ten times better than anything that fancy ass restaurant could make on its best day. I just drank enough bourbon to need a uber and told him Lip would get back to him sometime soon.”

They always used Lip to tell the investors that they weren’t interested in upgrading their pop and pop place to the “newest biggest greatest thing to ever be on the market”. Mickey always had a way of using too many fucks in his responses and thus, Lip took over.

“Hmmm so you’re all loosy goosy tonight huh?” Ian grinned pulling lightly at the strands of hair between his fingers.

“Mmmmm you better believe it, Gallagher. I just might be easier than normal tonight.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that, Mick. How can I be sure you’re consenting? We should wait…”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed into slits, adding further to the whole cat theory.

“Don’t you pull that shit with me. I am consenting. I consent. All of my consent is out there; I could not consent more than if I was personally holding my asshole open for you.”

His dumbass laughed goofily before plopping his book off to the side and slowly maneuvering his way on top of him. Mickey wasted no time in pulling Ian close and capturing his lips in a firm kiss.

“Mmm, Mandy’s staying over tonight alright?”

Mickey paused. “How come?”

“Just needed some space from the boyfriend. I told her it was fine.”

“That asshole do something?”

“Let’s talk to her tomorrow. Right now I want do some very consensual things with you.”

“Nothing gets me going faster than your dirty talk, Gallagher.”

They quickly went back to kissing getting wrapped up in each other like only they could.

***

Mickey wakes up feeling slightly groggy and stiff in a way that alcohol never used to make him feel. He’s woken up by Ian coming back in from his morning jog, a tradition he still held onto as he got older to deal with his bipolar disorder, and it takes a little longer to get out of bed that morning.

“You want me to start breakfast?!” He called out over the sound of the shower running.

“Sure! Sounds good!”

Ian had his own recipe book in the kitchen, mostly for when he wouldn’t be home in time to feed the family. It was a direct response to the constant pizza rolls and frozen chicken nuggets that Mickey was subjecting their children too. Mickey had argued against it, but the truth was it was pretty nice to know how to make pancake batter that wasn’t an add water and mix situation.

Mickey’s cooking slowly awakes everyone from the dead and soon there’s a crowd formed. Mandy eventually stumbles in wearing one of his t-shirts and sweatpants reluctant as ever to meet his eye. He makes a mental note to get to the bottom of that because obviously, something’s wrong. Last but not least a giant ginger stomps his way through the kitchen to latch onto Mickey’s back and judge his pancake work.

“Look at you not burning the pancakes. You tryin’ to one up me?” He murmured rubbing his morning scruff along Mickey’s neck.

“Yea, right. I know better.”

Ian chuckled. “Good morning.”

They exchanged a kiss before smiling dopily at each other.

“Morning.” Mickey mumbled.

They were very rudely interrupted by the bottomless pits disguised as children breaking the moment for the time being. Ian tapped lovingly at Mickey’s hip before playing diversion long enough for breakfast to get cooked. That left Mandy and Mickey alone in the kitchen with a kind of heavy silence pressing in on them in a way it hadn’t in years.

Mickey kept flipping pancakes out onto plates while bacon fried and eggs scrambled. Mandy took this to mean that he would be too busy to talk to her. A girl can dream. A girl can also be wrong.

“Ian said you’re staying here for a while?” He eventually broke the silence.

“Y—Yea. Just for a couple of days, ya know?”

He hummed. “Something wrong with the house?”

“Just kind of lonely. Ronnie’s away on business so…”

“Really? Ian said you needed to get away from Ronnie for a couple days. And I thought he was laid off?  Which is it?”

Mandy closed her eyes and cursed everything to hell. There was now no way to avoid Mickey’s wrath from coming down on them all.

Mickey moved the food off to the side of the stove so that he could turn to look at his sister.

“That fucker did something, didn’t he?” He muttered. “He hurt you?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. I can handle my own shit, Mick.”

“Like hell you can. You think I’m gonna let some asshole hurt my family and just sit here and do nothing?”

“Yes!” Mandy exclaimed. “Because it’s none of your business.”

“It became my business the second he started fucking with you. I’m gonna feed the kids and we’re gonna pay jackass at a visit.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“NO!”

“Mandy—”

“He cheated on me.” She snapped finally stunning her brother into silence. “He cheated on me and I’m hurt and I don’t wanna go home. I don’t want my dumb big brother to fix my mess for me like I’m still in middle school I just wanna stay here and figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do okay? Can I fucking do that? Please…”

Mickey sighed as the rush of being a complete and total asshole hit him. Mandy got up from the table with a trembling lip and not another word leaving him to feel like a dick the rest of the morning.

After the kids had been fed, Ian got every cleaned up and dressed before appointing himself to driver duty to take all of Amy’s friends home.

“Go talk to her and don’t be a dick alright? She’s hurting. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Mickey wiped at his face stressfully. “Yea, alright.”

Ian kissed lovingly at Mickey’s forehead before exiting the house, line of girls in tow.

Mickey headed to Mandy’s room hesitantly, hoping that his sister wouldn’t bite his head off for being an asshole. Fortunately—or unfortunately—she was sitting on the bed so subdued that it looked like all the fight had drained out of her. He didn’t join her on the bed cause that was too sentimental for either of their tastes, but in stead posted up against the wall aggressively frowning and not making eye contact with her.

“I’m sorry alright? I didn’t mean to be a dick. Just didn’t want some asshole hurting you….”

Mandy sniffled. “I know. You’re a puppy in a pit bull’s body. Doesn’t mean you still have to fight all my battles for, Mickey. I’m a grown ass woman.”

“You’re right.” He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

She huffed sparing a glance at her douchebag of a brother but otherwise couldn’t handle the puppy dog face he’d picked up from Ian.

“Ugh I just want someone to not be a complete and utter disappointment. You can’t be the only one destined for happiness in this fucking world.”

Mickey shrugged his shoulders. “Could always switch teams. Worked pretty well for me.”

“Yea but you’ve always been a big ole homo; what team did you really switch.” She sighed.

Mickey rolled his eyes but nudged her with his shoulder.

“Why can’t you just be in love with yourself? You’re a grown ass woman with a job and a home and all those friends and shit you got. Why do you need some asshole to complete it all?”

She peered over at him and couldn’t silently help but wonder why he’d never offered that advice when she was fifteen.

“You got a point there.” She said instead. “I guess I could give it a shot.”

“Good. We done with this sappy shit? Ian’ll be home any minute and he owes me some un-ironic Netflix and chill to make up for the dumb ass documentary on the history of bananas he made me watch.”

Mandy just laughed.

“That is a level of domesticity that not even I want to achieve.”

He flipped her off and continue on out of the room to wait for his man to come home. Their domesticity was perfect in his eyes.

***

 

It’s a Sunday evening when Adam makes his way home for family dinner. Ian is making homemade chicken pot pie and garlic mash potatoes that stick to your ribs—Mickey would know; it takes longer at the gym now a days to keep himself in shape. Everything had been going well for them lately. The restaurant was still kicking, Amy had made honor roll, their sex life was at a natural high after Ian’s medication had gone a little wonky, and the house was still in tact.

The door opened while Ian was taking the pot-pie out of the oven, and he heard the squeal of Amy running for her big brother before he ever caught a glimpse of his son. Mickey came from upstairs after changing his shirt when _someone_ insisted it didn’t make his eyes pop enough. Gay.

Mickey turned the corner and saw Adam hadn’t brought all of his laundry home which would’ve been strange even on normal circumstances. But then Cora—a woman who face the world with a puffed out chest and fists ready to fight—was hiding behind him like a frail bird with a broken wring. That’s when the alarm bells started to go off.

“Hey kid, long time no see.” Mickey smirked regardless.

Adam and Cora had been gone the entire summer on some backpack across Europe shit. Cora was an environmental justice major and wanted to study the habits of other countries, and thought that taking Adam along would be a good idea. Mickey thought it sounded like an excuse to get into his pockets, which is explains why they went to Ian first who went heart eyes immediately over the whole thing. They were finally back and this was supposed to the first family dinner to welcome them back.

Adam stepped hesitantly out of Cora’s way smiling sheepishly.

“H—Hey dad.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake—IAN!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could explain why it Tok me so long to update but I really can't. All I can say is that life happened and I know how sucky it is when a pic goes on hiatus and the author is silent, and I truly do apologize. I really would like to finish this story because this world is important to me and so are these characters. All I ask for is a little patience? Or if you wanna stop reading that's totally cool too and I respect it. But thank you to everyone holding on with me. I do appreciate it. :)


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